


Between a Rock and a Hard Place!

by Ninja_Librarian



Series: The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes! [12]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: A good chunk of this fic is the women of FOWL roasting Steelbeak, And not because his girlfriend and mother hate each other, But like still in a cartoon way, But you will all see why I chose Rosa as M'Ma's name, F/M, Fenton Whump, Fenton is in danger, Gandra vs M'Ma, Gun Violence, Gyro's fear of M'ma outweighs his fear of small spaces, M/M, No one gets hurt or killed, Sleep Deprived Drake, Spoiler free for "Let's Get Dangerous!", injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Librarian/pseuds/Ninja_Librarian
Summary: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera's life was already complicated before his mother and his scientist spy-turned-good-guy girlfriend, Gandra Dee, decided that they were mortal enemies. He would really like them to get along, but suspects that it is impossible.When Gizmoduck suddenly disappears, Darkwing Duck needs to assemble a team to find and rescue him. He needs the best of the best, and that includes both Rosa Cabrera and Gandra Dee. Can they put aside their differences long enough to save the one person they both care about? Will they be able to rescue Gizmoduck before it's too late? And who is behind the disappearance of Gizmoduck?
Relationships: Daisy Duck/Donald Duck, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gandra Dee
Series: The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes! [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478648
Comments: 56
Kudos: 151





	1. Chapter 1

Gizmoduck, Darkwing Duck, Pilot, and Captain Raymond Sabrewing stood at the entrance of the holding cell, watching as Lena stood in the middle of the room, her eyes glowing a bright pale blue, with a similar aura around her.

Suddenly, her eyes cleared, revealing her new, pale-blue irises (the result of a sleep-over with her friends, but don’t ask any of the adults how that happened, because they frankly weren’t sure they wanted to know) and she frowned.

“Yeah, Jackson Downey definitely busted free using magic,” Lena said, beginning to pace around the room. “And… I think it’s from Morgana and the Blood Ruby?”

“You think or you’re sure?” Darkwing asked, his face grim.

“I’m sure,” Lena responded quickly, nodding. “The magical signature feels so… tainted. Worse than Magica’s. At the very least, Magica De Spell’s magic is more natural. It has the potential for good. Magic from the Blood Ruby doesn’t. You said that there was something found where he disappeared?”

Captain Sabrewing nodded and pulled out the evidence bag. “It appears to be a plastic container from a prize machine similar to those found in grocery stores.”

Lena took the bag and gave her father a look, asking for permission. When he nodded, she opened the bag, taking out the two halves. As soon as they were in her hand, she flinched. “Oh yeah. This has the same signature, but times a thousand.” She quickly stuck the plastic back into the bag, shoving it at Captain Sabrewing with a shudder.

“Could you possibly trace the magical signature?” Gizmoduck asked. “And lead us to Morgana?”

“I’m not sure,” Lena admitted, looking around the holding cell. “Morgana’s got remarkable control and mastery for someone who just recently got her hands on real magic. Evil magic, but, you know, still magic. I’m picking up traces of magic that go in at least five different directions. It isn’t helping that those traces have all started to fade. It’s all too faint to track.”

“What about this… egg?” Captain Sabrewing asked, holding up the evidence bag.

“The egg only held the item that contained the spell that got Downey out of here, it wasn’t actually part of the spell itself. I can tell that it’s the Blood Ruby that powered the spell, and it still has the strongest bit of residual magic, but it can’t tell me anything additional about the spell that was used in Downey’s escape or which direction he went.” Lena explained. She looked over at the superheroes apologetically. “Sorry, guys.”

“That’s alright.” Gizmoduck assured her even as Darkwing scowled, his anger practically palpable. Gizmoduck could understand Darkwing’s frustration; this was the second criminal that Negaduck and Morgana had busted out of jail, and they still had no leads as to where they could have gone.

It was frustration on top of frustration that Gizmoduck and Darkwing were already feeling, because Police Chief Grizzlikoff had been interfering in their attempts to investigate from the beginning. It took two days for Gizmoduck and Darkwing to even get to the holding cell, see the footage, and interview the two witnesses. It had taken a full week to get Grizzlikoff to agree to allow Lena to come and investigate the holding cell with her magic.

And, in that week, they lost their only possible lead.

“We could have had four criminals behind bars if it weren’t for that hard-head!” Darkwing snapped irritably as they left the police department, walking down to where Darkwing had parked the Ratcatcher. They had parted with Lena and Pilot, the latter of whom was taking Lena to the mansion to meet up with her friends for an adventure with Scrooge McDuck. “And I know Grizzlikoff hates it when we do investigating like this instead of catching bad guys in the act, because it makes his officers look bad—but, come on! It makes them look worse when they get away and he stubbornly gets in our way of trying to find them!”

Gizmoduck thought that Darkwing was preaching to the choir, but didn’t say so. He knew better. This was one of Darkwing’s better moments when he was in a foul mood.

“Is there anything that Megavolt and Downey have in common that would appeal to Negaduck?” Gizmoduck asked as Darkwing pulled out his motorcycle keys. “There has to be some reason he singled them out.”

“It could have been Morgana, though, who did the choosing,” Darkwing reminded him. “Her spells are what got them both out, after all.” Suddenly, Darkwing let out a huge yawn, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead. “I’ve got to go home and get some shut-eye.”

“Right, you’re usually asleep right now,” Gizmoduck said, nodding. Of the two of them, Darkwing was the nocturnal superhero, the proverbial ‘terror that flaps in the night’.

“Yeah, and I would have taken a nap after I got off shift this morning, except I needed to see Gos packed up and dropped off at the mansion,” Darkwing said, hopping onto the motorcycle and turning on the engine. Darkwing grabbed his helmet, but paused in fastening it, staring straight ahead. “If Negaduck strikes over the next couple of days, you won’t see me complaining.”

Gizmoduck frowned, but didn’t disagree. He knew how terrified Darkwing was of the possibility of Negaduck learning about Darkwing’s daughter, Gosalyn, and attacking her. Gizmoduck knew it was a real possibility. It was a thought that terrified him, too. He was rather fond of Darkwing’s spunky, seemingly-fearless daughter.

For her part, Gosalyn didn’t seem as afraid of what would happen if Negaduck went after her. But Gizmoduck also knew that there was a good possibility that Gos was hiding her fears behind bravado. Because, although Darkwing and Gosalyn didn’t share a drop of blood between them, they definitely had one thing in common: they both blustered their way through life to hide their emotional vulnerability. Gizmoduck knew that Darkwing’s blustering usually involved a flair for the dramatic and smoke-bombs, but he was starting to think that Gosalyn’s took the form of pre-teen indifference.

One way or another, finding Negaduck was top priority.

“Go get some sleep, Darkwing,” Gizmoduck said. “We’ll talk more later, once your shift officially begins.”

Darkwing nodded and gave Gizmoduck a two-fingered salute before driving off with a rev of the engine.

Gizmoduck watched him go for a moment, then he got a notification that he had an incoming call. Frowning upon seeing that it was Dr. Gearloose, he quickly answered it, the scientist’s irritated face filling his visor. Before Gizmoduck could even get out a greeting, Dr. Gearloose snapped,

“Get back to the lab. Now. I don’t care what crimes are in process or what heroic activity you’re in the middle of. Get your tailfeathers over here now.”

“What’s wrong?” Gizmoduck asked.

“Your mother’s here.” Dr. Gearloose hissed, ire oozing from his voice. But, underneath, Gizmoduck caught a faint glimmer of something only those who have been around Dr. Gyro Gearloose for a long time in many different situations have learned.

And that faint something was panic and fear.

Gizmoduck couldn’t blame him.

“I’m on my way.”

*****

Gandra’s fist tightened hard around her pencil, so hard she was sure it was going to snap in her hands. Snap like her patience as she glared daggers at Detective Rosa Cabrera, who returned the same expression.

Gandra put on a fake smile as she said, “How nice of you to drop by, Detective.”

Like Rosa had every single day ever since learning that Gandra and Fenton were dating, making her opinions on the matter abundantly clear. Whatever. Gandra wasn’t afraid of her. She’d dealt with worse. Besides, Gandra knew full well that she had gotten on the board of their war with the first victory, given that Fenton had put his foot down and refused to break up with Gandra despite Rosa’s demands.

“It’s always _lovely_ to see you.” Gandra continued, sarcasm and venom oozing from her voice.

“The feeling is mutual, Dee,” Rosa returned, her voice pleasant but full of passive-aggression. “It’s always comforting to have you in my sights so that I know exactly when you will betray _my son_. Again.”

No, Gandra would not snap this pencil like a twig. She could use it as a weapon later. Stab Rosa Cabrera in the throat with it…

“What, tracking me like an animal isn’t comforting enough for you?” Gandra snapped, raising her wrist to show the watch-like device on her wrist.

Rosa only gave her a small smirk, her eyes glinting, and said, “It is, actually. For I will enjoy tracking you down the moment you show your true colors, _spy_.”

“My month of probation is almost up,” Gandra responded. “If I haven’t gone back to F.O.W.L by now, I’m not going to.”

“So you say,” Rosa retorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Unless, of course, that is yet another step in your web of lies and traps.”

Gandra twisted the pencil so that she was holding it in both hands. Maybe she’d go ahead and snap it so that she had two projectiles… “You haven’t said what, exactly, has brought you by, Detective. If you’re looking for _my boyfriend_ , then you can’t be as good of a detective as you think you are, as he’s currently at your police department with your captain.”

“I know exactly where _my son_ is, and what he’s up to,” Rosa said coolly. “I’m here because I can’t say the same for you.”

Storkules—who had been standing awkwardly beside Rosa the entire time and looking longingly at the closet door through which Dr. Gearloose, Manny, and Lil Bulb had disappeared the moment they saw Rosa, the filthy cowards—cleared his throat. “Actually, Gandra of Dee, we were nearby and the Valiant Rosa had something the Noble Fenton had forgotten this morning that she wished to deliver.”

“How kind,” Gandra said dryly.

“Yes, it is an act born of true love for _my son_ ,” Rosa informed her, giving her a withering stare.

The crack of the pencil snapping between Gandra’s hands echoed, but the sound coming from Storkules that he would deny being a whimper was lost as the elevator doors opened, revealing a harried looking Fenton, a bag full of metallic armor slung over his shoulder as he rushed out.

“M’ma,” Fenton said, a bit breathlessly as he dropped the bag by his desk. “Gandra. Storkules. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, your mother and I were just having a lovely chat,” Gandra said, fake cheeriness in her voice as she dropped the pencil halves and strode over to Fenton.

Before he could so much as blink, Gandra grabbed Fenton by the collar of his shirt, planting a kiss on his beak and letting her hands wander to his back and down to his waist. When she released the dazed scientist, she kept her arm around his waist, smirking slightly at Rosa’s furious glare.

Gandra knew, deep down, that it was wrong to do so. To use physical affection as a weapon. And part of her did feel horrible about it. But more of her felt smug at seeing how much it angered Rosa.

Fenton shook himself out of his daze, frowning slightly. “Let me guess. I’m interrupting… something.”

To be fair ‘something’ was perhaps the most generous term to describe Gandra and Rosa’s battle of snark and barbed comments.

“No,” Gandra and Rosa both said at the same time, while Storkules silently nodded frantically, his eyes wide.

Fenton groaned and ran a hand over his face. “It’s too much to ask that you attempt to be civil to each other, isn’t it?”

“I’m perfectly civil, _she’s_ the problem,” Gandra said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rosa scoffed. “Please. Playing the victim is not a good look on you, Dee.”

Fenton did not look impressed with either of these answers, emphasized with an arched eyebrow.

Sensing a need to defuse the tension—and quickly—Storkules suddenly exclaimed, “We have brought you that which you have forgotten, oh Noble Fenton!”

With that, he quickly got on one knee, his hands raised and outstretched, head bent, as he presented Fenton with…

“My umbrella?” Fenton said, accepting it from Storkules. He frowned as he glanced at his mother. “It’s not supposed to rain this week.”

“But it could,” Rosa said nonchalantly, folding her arms over her chest. “You never know when it will sneak up on you and ruin your day. Or, you know, your life. So you have to be prepared.”

“Do you get all your life advice from a Junior Woodchuck Guidebook?” Gandra snipped.

“Why not? It seems to be the same place you get all of your comebacks.”

Gandra’s eyes flashed darkly and she quickly unfolded her arms as she yelled, “Oh yeah? Well here’s a comeback that is most definitely not in a Junior Woodchuck anything!”

She started to raise her hands in a rude gesture, but Fenton stepped in front of her, grabbing her wrists.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” He said, his eyes wide. “Can we all just take a step back and a deep breath and—”

Fenton was cut off by a ringing sound coming from his duffle bag. Fenton dropped Gandra’s wrists with a groan, everyone knowing immediately what that sound meant: somewhere in Duckburg, Gizmoduck was needed. Fenton quickly rushed to his bag and pulled out a wrist gauntlet.

“Bla,” Fenton said, and the gauntlet attached itself to Fenton’s arm, allowing him access to the screen. Fenton’s frown turned into a scowl. “Great, just great…”

“What is—” Rosa started to ask, but she was also cut off by her radio on her hip, a tinny voice proclaiming,

“Calling all units, we’ve got an active robbery and hostage situation at Duckman’s Deli on Fifth Street. Repeat, calling all units to Duckman’s Deli on Fifth Street.”

“It’s on the news,” Fenton declared, sounding suddenly snappish. “This started fifteen minutes ago.” He stood up and turned back to Rosa and Gandra, looking angry. “You know where I was, fifteen minutes ago? Finding a place to take off the Gizmosuit to come here, because you two being in the same room together terrifies my boss. You know where I was twenty minutes ago? Half a block away from where this is happening. It could have been over by now, if I wasn’t so worried about you two killing each other when I’m not around!”

Gandra shifted her weight uncomfortably. At least Rosa also looked a bit abashed.

“Fenton, I—” Gandra started to say, but Fenton held up his currently robotic-suit free hand.

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” Fenton declared. “I just want you both to promise that, when I get through with this, the three of us sit down and have a real conversation, like actual adults, because this has gotten beyond ridiculous.”

Gandra huffed. “Promise.”

“Te prometo,” Rosa grumbled, giving Gandra one last glare.

Fenton nodded, then grabbed his bag and headed for the elevator, not giving anyone a backwards glance and leaving them in silence.

Gandra, Rosa, and Storkules all turned at hearing the swooshing sound of another door opening and Gyro Gearloose stuck his head out of the closet.

“Is it safe?” He asked. “Has she—?” Gyro’s eyes briefly widened when he caught sight of Rosa, who arched an eyebrow at him.

Gyro gulped and pulled back into the closet, which closed with the same swoosh that it had opened with. From within, they could hear, “Never mind. The closet will suffice.”

Rosa sighed and headed for the elevator. “Come on, Storkules, vamos. They said all units.”

“That they did,” Storkules said, scurrying to follow in the shorter woman’s wake. “And we are, indeed, a unit.”

Gandra watched them leave, and when the elevator doors closed she let out a deep sigh, tension leaving her body.

Gandra really liked Fenton. Fairly certain that she could and did love him. But she couldn’t stand his mother.

Gandra clenched her fists, closing her eyes. She’d prove to Rosa Cabrera, prove to everyone, that she wasn’t some F.O.W.L loyal lackey anymore. That she wanted to do good things in the world. That she was good enough for a life where she was free, a life that was full of joy and love, the kind of life she had long since thought would never be obtainable for her. That she was good enough to be trusted. Good enough for friends. Good enough for family.

Good enough for Fenton.

The first step towards all of that, however, was proving to herself that she was good enough.

*****

When Gizmoduck arrived on the scene, he wasn’t too surprised to see that a particular trio of Beagle Boys was behind the robbery.

If he hadn’t been so frustrated, he would have noticed a couple of oddities about the situation, though. Things that should have surprised him. Things that should have made him suspicious. Cautious.

Things like the fact that Big Time and his brothers were doing a hold-up. Beagle Boys preferred to get the goods and get out, issuing as much violence and creating as much chaos as they could before retreating to Ma Beagle’s side.

Things like the fact their choice of target was a small, family-owned deli, and not a bank or a jewelry store or anything that would have large amounts of money or valuables. For a less ambitious Beagle Boy, this was good. But for Big Time, this was too little, not grand enough.

Things like the fact that there was someone else with them, someone who was not a Beagle Boy, emphasized by the fact that they had a beak and feathers, their face obscured by a mask and a large red hat.

Things like the fact that this person wasn’t against holding a knife to a hostage’s throat, to the clear discomfort of Bouncer and Burger.

Things like the fact that Big Time seemed annoyed with this person, and demanding that they move on now that they had all the money from the cash register and valuables off the customers. No, Big Time wasn’t annoyed. Through the suit’s enhancements, Gizmoduck could plainly hear the anger in Big Time’s voice, yelling at this person “How much bigger of a payoff can we get?”

What Gizmoduck did notice instantly was that this person was wearing a particular combination yellow, black, and red—something that sent a jolt through him. Because there was only one criminally inclined duck that he knew wore those colors: Negaduck.

It was too good to be true. But Gizmoduck knew that Negaduck was recruiting—for what, he didn’t know. But here it was, a chance to nab Negaduck and if that failed or he wouldn’t talk, they could coax information out of the Beagle Boys.

Gizmoduck hated that Darkwing wasn’t there, but there wasn’t any time to contact him, not if there was a chance they could actually capture Negaduck once and for all. Gizmoduck just had to hope that relief would outweigh Darkwing’s ire over not being there to capture his arch-nemesis.

Gizmoduck had hardly exchanged two words with the officer in charge of the scene when Negaduck glanced towards the window, where he could see all of the cop cars with their lights flashing, police barricades, plenty of officers, and, of course, Gizmoduck. Then, causing a great commotion both inside the deli and outside, Negaduck lowered the knife from his victim’s throat and ran, hopping over the counter and through the kitchen door.

“He’s getting away!” Someone cried out.

“No, he’s not!” Gizmoduck declared, activating his rockets to go over the building.

Gizmoduck pursued Negaduck from the air through a maze of back alleys, side-streets, and fences until, finally, Negaduck reached a dead end.

No fire escapes, no windows, no doors, no other escape routes, just brick walls on three sides, and one robotic-armor-wearing-superhero touching the ground behind him.

“It’s over, Negaduck!” Gizmoduck declared, grabbing hold of the supervillain by the shoulder and spinning him around.

Gizmoduck blinked.

No, he had spun _her_ around.

Because, now that he was seeing Negaduck up close, he realized this wasn’t Negaduck at all. It wasn’t even a male duck, but a female one dressed in Negaduck’s costume.

“You’re not Negaduck,” Gizmoduck said, voice full of confusion.

The woman who was not Negaduck smirked. “Nope.”

Gizmoduck suddenly let go of the woman’s arm when he felt something take a swipe towards his abdomen, grimacing when he saw the flash of the knife. How had he forgotten about the knife?

Gizmoduck rolled backwards. Though the suit would most definitely protect him from the knife, he needed some distance between him and her, not knowing what she would do and how he would need to respond.

“Who are you?” Gizmoduck demanded.

The woman’s smirk grew. “Bait.”

Gizmoduck frowned. “What kind of name is ‘Bait’?”

Behind him, he heard a man’s voice say, “The kind that goes with a trap, of course. A _steel_ trap.”

There was a snapping sound and suddenly thick metal walls surrounded Gizmoduck on all sides, even above and below.

The box was tight around the armor, he could barely move, but his mind was moving faster, alternatively going through the tools at his disposal, cursing himself for falling into a trap, and wondering who this woman and the unseen male were.

“Activating—” Gizmoduck started to say, only to let out a sudden cry of pain as the walls around him became electrified, shocking Gizmoduck.

There was a laugh outside the box. “Nighty-night, Gizmo-dork”

Suddenly, the entire box was filled with sweet-smelling smoke. Gizmoduck felt dizzy, and heavy, and—despite his best efforts—his eyes slid closed.

*****

Rosa Cabrera knew in her gut something was wrong. She had spent most of her adult life as a cop, starting as a uniformed officer and working her way up to detective. Her entire career had been incident after incident of following her gut-instincts. When she had a feeling in her gut that something was wrong, or that she should do something, she listened to it. It had saved her life and the lives of others countless times, not to mention prevented innocent people from going to jail and guilty people from getting away with their crimes.

She wasn’t sure what had alerted her gut that something was wrong. But she did know what it related to.

When Rosa and Storkules had arrived on the scene, it was just in time to see the Beagle Boys being put into the back of a squad car and join in helping wherever they could: Assisting the victims and reuniting them with family or getting them medical attention, taking statements, photographing and bagging evidence, keeping back reporters and nosy bystanders… They did whatever they needed to do to help and move things along.

It was an hour after she arrived that Rosa first noted that odd feeling, like something wasn’t right. It wasn’t until two more hours later that that odd feeling turned into a gut feeling, and she quickly realized what the gut feeling was alerting her to.

Rosa hadn’t seen Gizmoduck at all.

“Penumbra,” Rosa said as she walked over to her Moonlander coworker, who had been one of the first on the scene.

Penumbra glanced up from the evidence she was photographing. “Yes?”

“Did Gizmoduck ever show up?” Rosa asked.

Penumbra nodded vaguely before adjusting the zoom on the camera. “Yeah, shortly before you and Storkules got here.”

“Ah,” Rosa said, still unnerved. Why was her gut feeling still so strong? “So I missed Gizmoduck stopping the Beagle Boys.”

Penumbra stopped adjusting her camera and looked up at Rosa again. “Actually, you didn’t. We got the Beagle Boys. Painfully easy. Like they didn’t know what to do when Negaduck ditched them.”

Rosa blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘Negaduck’?”

Negaduck had been here? Chainsaw-wielding, ex-television star, breaking other criminals out of jail Negaduck?

“Yes,” Penumbra said, now starting to sound annoyed. “Shortly after Gizmoduck got here, Negaduck escaped out the back. Gizmoduck pursued the suspect. I’m assuming he took the guy straight to the station. Why do you—Rosa?”

Rosa was on autopilot, her stride long and purposeful as she went to find somewhere quiet.

“Dispatch, this is Cabrera,” Rosa said, a professional calm in her voice that she did not feel in the slightest. “Did Gizmoduck bring in a perp? One by the name of Negaduck?”

“Cabrera, this is dispatch,” Came the clear female voice in response. “No, Gizmoduck has not been by the station at all tonight, and the only arrests that have been made are three Beagle Boys—Big Time, Burger, and Bruiser.”

Rosa switched off the radio, her heart thudding in her chest as she pulled out her cellphone. She hated doing this, calling these two particular people, but she was out of options.

The phone on the other end rang before being picked up and she heard a series of clops that translated to, “Gearloose laboratories.”

“Manny, I need to speak to Gearloose and Gandra. Now. It’s urgent.”

There was another series of clops and then,

“Gearloose. What do you want?”

“Gearloose, it’s Detective Cabrera,” Rosa said. She looked around then asked, “Did Fenton come back to the lab by any chance? Or heard from him at all?”

“No?” Gryo said, sounding wary. “Figured he was still out Gizmoducking or whatever. Are you still at that crime scene?”

“What about Gandra?” Rosa demanded. “Has she left at all?”

“Gandra’s been here all afternoon,” Gyro responded. “Hang on a second.” Rosa could hear Gyro’s voice, muffled, as he called out, “Dee! Have you heard from your boyfriend lately?”

“No,” was Gandra’s somewhat muffled and yelled back response. “Why?”

“His mother wants to know.”

“You tell her—”

“You tell Gandra that I have no idea where he is, and he was last seen chasing after Negaduck.” Rosa said in a rush.

“Did you say Negaduck?” Gyro asked, sounding surprised. “As in—”

“Chainsaw wielding lunatic, yes,” Rosa said, impatient.

*****

Gandra frowned as she heard Gyro say ‘Negaduck’. She didn’t like how he straightened when he said the name, the way his typical scowl deepened.

“I’m putting you on speaker,” Gyro told Rosa over the phone, pressing a button as he called over his shoulder, “Manny! Bring up the GPS!”

“Global Positioning System?” Gandra asked as she followed Gyro around the lab towards the large computer screens. “What do you need that for?”

“The ‘G’ doesn’t stand for ‘global’,” Gyro informed her. “Stands for ‘Gizmoduck’.”

A chill went through Gandra, wondering what, exactly, Fenton had gotten himself into. She felt uneasy. Why hadn’t he reported in? Was he in trouble? Where was he?

Gyro hit some keys on the keyboard, staring at the screens, depicting satellite map images of Duckburg. Gandra stared at them, too, wondering what she should be looking for.

Gandra’s stomach twisted suddenly. Something didn’t feel right. It shouldn’t be taking this long for a glowing dot or icon or something to appear on the screen, right?

Gyro was quiet. Painfully quiet. Then—

“No,” Gyro muttered, quickly hitting more keys. “No, no, no. Reload you useless piece of junk!”

“Gyro…” Gandra said warily.

“I’m working on it,” Gyro hissed, pressing the keys harder and faster.

The screens changed slightly, expanding further and further. Beyond Duckburg to all of Callisota. Then all of the American Northwest. Then all of North America. Western Hemisphere. The world.

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Gyro slammed his fist onto the console.

“What does this mean?” Gandra asked, her voice hollow.

“What?” Rosa asked over the phone. “What does what mean?”

“He’s not showing up on the map,” Gandra explained. “So is he not wearing the suit? Is that it? Does it only show up when the suit is assembled?”

“No,” Gyro said, flopping down into his chair, his entire face blank. “There should… he should… it doesn’t matter if the suit is together or not. But I can’t find him on the map. Someone or something disabled the tracker. We have no way of knowing where he is.”

Wherever Fenton was, he was in danger.

*****

_Daring Duck of Mystery, Champion of the right, Swoops out of the shadows, Darkwing owns the night…_

Drake groaned as he sleepily reached out towards his nightstand, fumbling for his phone, grumbling to himself to make a note to get around to changing his ringtone.

Phone in hand, Drake rolled over onto his back, swiping his thumb on the screen to accept the call, not really noticing the name on the screen. He brought the phone to his ear and groaned, “Hello?”

“Drake, get to the Money Bin, now! It’s an emergency!”

The panic in Gandra Dee’s voice banished any remaining traces of sleep from Drake as he sat up, hitting Launchpad on the back beside him in an attempt to wake him.

“Gandra, what’s going on?” Drake demanded as he threw aside the covers. “Where’s Fenton?”

The next words Gandra said sent ice down Drake’s spine:

“We don’t know where Gizmoduck is, but we think he’s been taken by Negaduck.”


	2. Chapter 2

Darkwing Duck strode out of the elevator, Launchpad on his heels, and into Gearloose Labratories, where Gandra, Rosa, Gyro, Manny, and Storkules were waiting.

“What happened?” Darkwing demanded.

“There was a hold up at Duckman’s Deli,” Gyro explained, not looking behind him as he continued to work on the computer, desperately trying to find any hint of the Gizmosuit’s location. “Three Beagle Boys and… Negaduck.”

“Negaduck fled the scene of the crime, and Gizmoduck pursued,” Storkules finished, his eyes on his colleague, who was pacing back and forth. “This was some hours ago. He has not been seen since, nor can Gyro of Gearloose track the Gizmoduck armor.”

“So the hold-up was a set-up for a trap,” Darkwing said, frowning. “Gyro, is there any way of knowing Gizmoduck’s last known location before the suit went dark? If we can find that place, we may be able to find clues.”

“I can do that,” Gyro responded, using his feet to push his chair over in front of a different screen and keyboard.

Darkwing nodded. “Okay. Next question: how many people know that Gizmoduck has disappeared?”

“Everyone in this room and Captain Sabrewing,” Rosa responded, not looking up from the floor as she paced. “The media hasn’t gotten wind of it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good, and we need to keep it that way. Storkules, Rosa, once Gyro has the location, I want you two—” Darkwing said, but was cut off by the sound of Gandra’s phone going off.

Gandra, who had been sitting on the couch looking a bit lost, scowled as she pulled out her phone. “Ugh,” She grunted. “Not again.”

“Your friends at F.O.W.L?” Rosa snapped irritably.

Gandra didn’t answer her question, but Gyro called over his shoulder, “You might as well answer this time, Dee. They’re going to get suspicious if you don’t.”

Gandra nodded. “Everyone keep quiet, I’m going to put the call on speaker.”

“Seriously?” Darkwing said, brow furrowing, more confused by her decision rather than frustrated.

“Might as well,” Gandra said with bitterness heavy in her voice. “You all monitor all my calls anyway. Might as well skip the middle man.” She then swiped at the screen with her thumb and said, “What is it now, Black Heron?”

“Hello to you too, Dee,” said a sharp female voice. “About time you picked up the phone. You young people are so lazy. Of course, I’m not surprised, given how long this little mission of yours has taken.”

“I ran into some setbacks,” Gandra said sharply. “And as I informed the Directors, I also found a way to get more than the Gizmoduck schematics, but it requires time and deep cover. Not that you need to know any of that.”

“No, but I actually did,” Black Heron said. “Because the Directors and I have had many delightful conversations about you, Dee.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Gandra said. “Is there a point to this call or can I go ahead and hang up on you?”

“Lazy, impatient, and incapable of providing the barest of results in three weeks in the field,” Black Heron clucked her tongue. “You’re a failure of an agent, Dee. No wonder you chose that ridiculous Honey Pot scheme with Gearloose’s intern. That’s not even a rookie mistake. That’s a fool’s choice. Frankly, dear, you have neither the face nor the personality for it.”

Gandra frowned in confusion, and suddenly all eyes were on her and everyone was listening more intently to the conversation. When they had made their plan for Gandra to deceive F.O.W.L high command, they had carefully crafted a cover story as to why Gandra hadn’t returned with the Gizmoduck schematics yet, and some fake information for her to feed them. And, as Gandra had pointed out, they had been monitoring all of her communication with F.O.W.L; Fenton had never been brought up, not even referred to vaguely as the intern or anything.

“What are you talking about?” Gandra demanded. “I’ve infiltrated Gearloose’s lab, but the other intern has nothing to do with me getting my hands on the Gizmoduck schematics.”

“No? So you’re not supposedly dating one Gearloose Laboratories intern by the name of Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera?”

“What?” Gandra asked with a laugh but her eyes were full of panic. Was she being watched by someone in F.O.W.L? Had they figured out that she was trying to leave? “No. Seriously, that guy? He can’t keep his mouth shut with secrets, and Gearloose relies too much on his security to keep outsiders from getting information, but his ego means everyone on the inside must know about and bow to his brilliance. It’s probably the easiest job ever.”

“Hmm,” Black Heron hummed. “Then why haven’t you reported more to the directors yet?”

“Weren’t you the one who just called me impatient?” Gandra snapped. “I’m sitting on a literal gold mine. It’ll pay off.”

“You better hope so, since it’ll get you back in the Director’s good graces. Considering Steelbeak, Femme Fatale, and I will have done what you originally set out to do in considerably less time.”

“What I—” Gandra started to say, her brow furrowed. Then her eyes widened and she looked across the room, meeting Darkwing’s eyes. Darkwing straightened, also catching what she had. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Black Heron said smugly. “That by morning light, I’ll know every little detail about Gizmoduck and his armor. But don’t you worry, Dee. Stay with Gearloose and his dunderhead interns for as long as you like. In fact, I’d suggest you enjoy it. Clearly, your talents are better suited pandering to the whims of an ego-maniac and cleaning beakers with a blabbermouth. After all, you won’t want to be showing your face around F.O.W.L anytime soon. Perhaps, when you do return, I’ll have a position for you in my lab. I could use an experienced intern.”

With a cruel laugh, Black Heron ended the call, leaving the lab in stunned silence.

“It’s not Negaduck who has Gizmoduck,” Darkwing said, his voice hollow.

“No, it’s worse.” Gandra whispered, staring at her phone in dismay.

“I’m calling Mr. McD and Mrs. B,” Launchpad said urgently, pulling out his phone. “They’ll know what to do. They can be back here in about—”

“Call them, because we’re going to need their advice, but we don’t have time to wait for them to get back to Duckburg,” Darkwing said urgently. “We’re going to have to move, and move fast.”

“While I agree that this is a ‘no time to wait’ situation, isn’t rushing in a bit foolhardy, even for someone who goes around saying ‘Let’s get dangerous’?” Gyro asked.

“Isn’t it a bit foolhardy for you to be talking right now?” Rosa snapped, which caused Gyro to flinch.

“No, he’s right, rushing in isn’t our most strategic idea, but we have no choice,” Darkwing said. “Because you know what I noticed in that phone call?”

“Pray tell, what is it?” Storkules asked.

“It’s that, as far as Black Heron knows, Gizmoduck and Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera are two different people. And, the longer we wait, the more we run the risk of F.O.W.L learning exactly who Gizmoduck really is.”

*****

“Wakey-wakey,” sing-songed a male voice somewhere near Fenton’s ear.

Fenton grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut tighter as he felt a hand smack at his beak. He groaned. He felt horrible. His head hurt, and his limbs felt like lead. He needed more sleep. “Cinco minutos más, por favor.” He mumbled out.

“Ugh, great. Managed to turn this thing’s settings onto Spanish mode. Better fix that before Black Heron—”

“—Gets here and sees you screwing around in her lab like she’s told you a thousand times not to?”

Fenton’s eyes snapped open. He still felt like he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler truck, but that didn’t matter.

He didn’t know where he was. He recognized the two voices—the woman’s was the fake Negaduck, the man’s the one who had trapped him—but didn’t know, exactly, who they were. And he suspected they were not friends.

And Fenton quickly realized that there were two reasons why it was so difficult to move, why his limbs felt so heavy.

The first was because he was not, in fact, Fenton in that moment but Gizmoduck.

The second was that he was strapped down to a metal table.

“Hey! Give a guy a little warning before you sneak up on them, will ya?” The man—a tall rooster dressed in a white suit, long dark green tailfeathers fanned out behind him; his beak glinted in the low light, and Gizmoduck could tell that it was made of metal—snapped at the woman.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She asked as she sauntered into the room, the sound of high-heels clicking on the floor. The woman was a white duck, with long, wavy white hair that reached the small of her back. Gone was her Negaduck disguise, replaced with a sparkling, figure-hugging red cocktail dress that left her shoulders bare, along with matching jewelry.

Were these two going to a fancy party or something?

The woman came around to Gizmoduck’s other side. She smirked down at him. “Well, looks like he’s awake now.”

“Yeah, but he’s busted,” The rooster declared. “He was talking en Español just now.”

“I’m not sure which I’m more impressed with,” The female duck said with a low, throaty laugh. Now that Gizmoduck had heard her speak more, he realized that she spoke with an English accent, soft and posh. “That you recognized the language as Spanish, or that you know the Spanish word for Spanish. There’s hope for you yet.”

“Who are you?” Gizmoduck demanded. “And where am I?”

The woman let out another low laugh and said, “Looks like you’re not broken after all.” She leaned down, getting her beak close to his. Gizmoduck was suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of flowery perfume, which aggravated the headache that was starting to take form. “Black Heron will be delighted,” The woman whispered, gently running a finger on the underside of his beak, which sent a shiver down Gizmoduck’s spine. “She is _so_ looking forward to doing that herself.”

The woman suddenly straightened and put the tips of her fingers on her chest, right above where her dress dipped into her cleavage. “I’m Femme Fatale.”

“The name’s Steelbeak,” Crowed the rooster, his hands on the lapels of his suit jacket, chest puffed out in self-importance. “And you, tin-can, are in a F.O.W.L facility on an island way, way, way off the coast of Calisota, far, far away from your precious Duckburg. You know what F.O.W.L is, Gizmodork?”

“Fiendish Organization for World Larceny,” Gizmoduck responded tersely. “Yes, I know exactly what F.O.W.L is and what they do.”

Steelbeak scowled at that. “Ugh, you are the worst prisoner we’ve ever had. First you were broken and speaking Spanish, now you apparently already know about our secret evil association. I had a huge speech prepared, you know? To put the fear in ya.”

Gizmoduck knew that there was only one reason that Femme Fatale and Steelbeak were telling him and were willing to tell him so much about themselves, their location, and F.O.W.L. And that was because they had no expectations of him leaving this island.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Gizmoduck said. “But I’m afraid disappointing bad guys is in my job description. Now I’ve got to _buzz_ off.”

Gizmoduck started to activate the buzz-saws in the wrists of his suit when he suddenly seized violently and let out a cry of pain as electricity courses through his entire body. He didn’t know how long it went on for before it stopped, but when it did there were black spots in his vision and the suit itself went offline. Gizmoduck also learned one other new thing about his current predicament.

The shock that he had before had encompassed him entirely, but it had to start outside of the suit.

This shock started _inside_ the suit, along his spine and setting every single nerve on fire.

But what was it? How did it get there? He was still in the Gizmoduck armor, and it couldn’t be reassembled without him saying the passcode. Furthermore, only a small portion of his body was exposed in the armor; it was too tight for anything to be shoved down beneath the plates.

In pain and panting, Gizmoduck managed to breathe one word: “How?”

“Are you familiar with nanotechnology, Gizmoduck?”

Gizmoduck’s head was spinning, and even though the black spots in his vision were clearing, more darkness overtook him, this time in the form of a shadow. A black heron with a robotic arm and graying dark hair strode forward, frowning down at him.

“Nanotechnology?” Gizmoduck repeated, frowning. He was a scientist, so of course he knew about nanotechnology. Furthermore, that was Gandra’s specialty, but she had told him that she was the only expert on the subject at F.O.W.L and had been the only one to work with nanotech. That meant, whatever nanotech was being used on him by this scientist, was actually Gandra’s.

_Ooh, Gandra’s not going to like that…_ He thought.

“Looks like you and Gizmoduck have something in common, Steelbeak,” The black heron said. “All brawn and no brains.”

“Hey!” Steelbeak snapped angrily. “I got him here for you, didn’t I? Give me some credit, Black Heron!”

The black heron—apparently appropriately named Black Heron—ignored him, focusing instead on Gizmoduck. “Nanotechnology, in this case small, microscopic robots infused into a special serum. I’ll give your Dr. Gearloose some credit, he made a nearly impenetrable armor for you. He’s good. But I’m better.

“Your armor leaves a millimeter of gap around your throat at maximum—enough room for me to get a specially designed tube in and coat your spine in this specially infused nanaite serum. Not only can I control when you are shocked—using your own naturally generated bioelectricity, I might add—and at what voltage, but I ensured that the nanites will shock you whenever they detect one of your ‘gizmos’ gets activated.”

Gizmoduck grit his teeth; so even when—and if—the suit rebooted, any and all of his gadgets, weapons, tools, and gizmos were now off-limits unless he wanted a shock. There’d be no way to even get a Boston cream pie in any of these F.O.W.L agents’ faces without doing damage to himself first.

Gizmoduck was entirely at their mercy.

Black Heron smirked down at him, her robotic arm stretching and pulling over a rattling cart full of tools. “Now that we have that settled, the fun can truly begin.”

*****

Donald blew out the match and tossed it in the sink, turning the crockpot onto ‘warm’ before carrying out the last candle into the living room of the houseboat, light jazz music swelling in the air. So far, everything was going better than he could have hoped. He only burnt his finger once, had to toss one candle out the window, and broke only one glass in preparing for tonight.

This was a very special night. He and Daisy had been going out for some time now, and she had come over to his houseboat on many occasions. But this was the first time that she had come over when none of his family were home. They were going to have some much needed alone time, and there was no one around to notice if they, uh, _rocked the boat_.

Donald smiled as he set the candle down on a sideboard, looking over at Daisy, who was curled up on his couch, her feet tucked under her. She reached up to brush a lock of her hair back, her eyes dancing.

“I must say, Donald,” Daisy said, her voice sultry as Donald sat beside her on the couch. “You promised me a romantic night in that I would never forget. Haven’t even had dinner yet, and here I am, already in a swoon.”

“Good,” Donald said, trying—and somewhat failing—to make his voice sound husky. He gently stroked Daisy along her beak, moving in closer, his other hand resting on her hip. “But how do you feel about dessert first?”

“Donald,” Daisy breathed, putting her hands on his shoulders, leaning in for a kiss…

Suddenly, there was a loud bang followed by the shout of “FRIEND DONALD, WE ARE IN DIRE NEEDS OF YOUR SERVICES!”

“WAAACK!” Donald exclaimed as he fell backwards, landing in an undignified heap on the floor, tail up, while Daisy quickly smoothed her dress, her cheeks red as she looked over the couch with a sigh, leaning her arm on the back of the couch.

“Hi, Storkules,” She said, trying hard not to sound too disappointed in seeing him. “What brings you by?”

“Greetings, Fair Daisy!” Storkules said, sounding pleased to see her. “Per chance, have you seen Friend Donald?”

Donald mumbled obscenities into the floorboards.

All the kids were gone… except for the biggest one.

Donald pushed himself up off the floor, glaring at Storkules. “What?” He growled.

Storkules just blinked, looking back and forth between Donald and Daisy in confusion. “Am I... interrupting something?”

Donald and Daisy exchanged a glance. Unfortunately, they hadn’t gotten far enough for it to be anything let alone ‘something’.

“No,” They both said, Donald with anger in his tone and Daisy with resignation.

Storkules nodded. “Good. For we are in need of your sailing expertise, Friend Donald, and I need you to come with me at once!”

“Sailing?” Donald demanded. “It’s almost sunset. What are you going to do on a boat at night that’s so urgent? Emergency night fishing?”

The sudden gravity in Storkules’ expression turned Donald’s red-hot anger ice-cold.

“No,” Storkules said. “A rescue mission,”

Donald and Daisy exchanged another glance before they both got to their feet.

Date night could wait.

*****

Darkwing Duck stood in front of his gathered troops, taking a deep breath, his pulse thumping hard.

He had faced chainsaw wielding maniacs, crime bosses with weapons of mass destruction, and planet invading aliens. He had survived being shot, stabbed, and blown up on a number of occasions. And he lived next door to his worst nightmare—his sister and brother-in-law—and somehow hadn’t gone insane yet.

But this? This was probably the most intense thing he had ever had to do in his career as a superhero.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Darkwing said, addressing his troops. “You have all been assembled here for one mission, and one mission only: rescue Gizmoduck from the clutches of F.O.W.L.” He let that sentence hang in the air for a moment—because, yes, this was a serious situation but he wasn’t going to let that interfere with his flair for the dramatic—before he added, “Failure is not an option.”

Launchpad, Rosa, Gandra, Gyro, Manny, and Lil Bulb. Storkules, Raymond, Donald, Daisy, Penumbra, and Elise.

Darkwing tried hard not to dwell on the fact that there were thirteen of them—unlucky thirteen. Thirteen against an evil spy organization, going straight into their headquarters and not knowing what they would face.

But they were going to do it, and gladly do it, for Fenton.

No one spoke, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on everyone. Darkwing continued, “According to Gandra, F.O.W.L has an island off the coast of the state. Uncharted, but she knows the coordinates. That is our destination.”

Daisy raised a hand. “How do we know that’s where Gizmoduck was taken? I thought F.O.W.L had holdings here in the city.”

“Based on Gizmoduck’s last known location, he was somewhere near the docks, but too far away from the entrance to F.O.W.L’s Duckburg base,” Gandra spoke up, her arms folded over her chest. “They would have wanted as few people to see them as possible. But the Duckburg base is also fairly small, and the lab space is more limited. The island has a larger lab that is designated for Black Heron’s use and her bigger projects. She’d have him taken there for that purpose alone.”

Daisy nodded, question answered.

“Donald, you’re in charge of transport to the island. Manny is working to arrange a boat that can’t be easily identified,” Darkwing said. “Launchpad will being in charge of transport from the island through the Thunderquack.”

Donald and Launchpad both nodded, their roles understood.

“Gyro, Manny, and Rosa are mission support. They’ll be operating out of the Money Bin, and are in charge of communications as well as overriding F.O.W.L’s security systems through Lil Bulb,” Darkwing continued. “Daisy, Raymond, I need you two to keep running interference with the police department and the media. The last thing we need is city-wide panic, or other criminals getting big ideas if they find out the superheroes aren’t around.”

Raymond nodded and Daisy said, “You can count on us, Darkwing!”

Darkwing nodded and said, “Here is the plan: Donald will drop me, Gandra, Storkules, and Lil Bulb off on F.O.W.L’s island. Penumbra, you’re going with us so that you can be in charge of the weapons systems on the trip there and back in case F.O.W.L tries to attack.”

A glimmer of excitement gleamed in Penumbra’s eyes. “I hope they try, so that F.O.W.L will know and tremble before the mighty power of the Moon!”

Darkwing didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just continued. “When we get to the island, Gandra is going to be the distraction by confronting Black Heron. She and Gyro have a fake upgrade to the Gizmoduck armor that she is going to tempt Black Heron with, which is actually a computer virus. Meanwhile, Lil Bulb will take over the security system, which will allow for me and Storkules to find Gizmoduck and smuggle him out.

“Lil Bulb will then set off another distraction, so that Launchpad can land the Thunderquack for our departure from the island. Elise, you’re with Launchpad. If Gizmoduck needs any medical attention, we want him to get it as soon as possible.”

“Understood,” Elise said with a grim nod.

“Any questions?” Darkwing asked, looking around the room.

“I’m coming, too.”

Everyone turned to look at Rosa. Darkwing scowled.

“No, you’re not. I need you to—”

“I’m going with you, whether your like it or not, Darkwing,” Rosa declared, eyes full of fire, daring him to argue with her.

But Darkwing Duck was the daring duck of mystery, and he took the dare—perhaps foolishly.

“No, you’re not. There’s a reason I don’t want you setting foot on that island. Just me, Storkules, Gandra, and Lil Bulb. In and out.”

“You can’t stop me. I’ll find my own way to that island. I’m not letting you or anyone else stop me from getting my son back.”

Darkwing pointed at her as he said, “See that? That right there? That’s why I don’t want you involved in this part of the plan. This is personal, for all of us, and for you it’s too personal. You’re just putting yourself and Fenton in more danger.”

The fire in Rosa’s eyes amped up as she snapped, “You’d do the same thing if this were Gosalyn.”

Darkwing, who up until that point had been relatively calm, was suddenly overtaken by anger—and it was clear on his face.

“Do not,” He hissed. “Use Gosalyn as a weapon against me.”

“I’m not, I’m simply pointing out that you’re a hypocrite.” Rosa snapped, folding her arms over her chest. “Because if our roles were reversed and this was Gosalyn in danger, we wouldn’t be sitting here having a meeting, you’d have gone in solo with guns blazing long before now.”

Raymond cleared his throat. “Darkwing? Speaking from personal experience as her commanding officer… She means it when she says that no one can stop her. Greater men have tried and failed to order Rosa Cabrera to do something she did not want to do. Today is not the day to fight her.”

Darkwing took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning to Rosa and saying, “Fine. You can come.”

Rosa nodded once, looking smug. Gandra let out a small huff and glared across the room at her.

And Darkwing… he hoped he was making the right decisions. Hoped it would be enough to save his friend.

_We’re coming for you, Fenton. Just hold on._


	3. Chapter 3

Darkwing Duck stood on the roof of a warehouse along the docks, cape flapping in the wind behind him, as he watched as Penumbra, Donald, Rosa, and Storkules loaded the boat. He glanced over at where Gandra—self-proclaimed to be the least memorable of the lot of them (a skill that she had perfected over the years), with her hoodie on and the hood obscuring her face for good measure—was paying off the owner of the boat rental establishment, doing her best to keep the man as distracted as possible from what was happening behind his back and not notice the large amount of spears, ray guns, and people dressed in all black going onto the vessel.

And then there was Darkwing, watching his team and making sure there weren’t any surprises.

Darkwing took a deep breath and reached up to his ear, activating the earpiece. “Gyro? Any word yet from Mr. McDuck or Mrs. Beakley?”

“Not yet,” Gyro responded. “We’ve been trying the kids’ cellphones, too, with no luck. Della may have had them turn them off so they wouldn’t interfere with the Sun Chaser’s equipment. They’re still tracking of flight radar going towards their intended destination, so they haven’t run into any trouble.”

“I can try contacting the Sun Chaser through air traffic control radio,” Launchpad’s voice piped in. “Della always keeps that on. Don’t know why. It’s a pretty boring radio. They don’t even play the Top Forty.”

“Uh, no thanks, LP,” Darkwing said, hoping Elise hadn’t heard any of that. She had never flown with Launchpad before, and flying with Launchpad for the first time was… an experience. “That’s a less secure channel of communication.”

Still. Darkwing would have appreciated any and all advice he could get from the former S.H.U.S.H agents before charging into F.O.W.L territory.

As if reading his mind, Gyro said, “Darkwing… Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“No, but it has to be done,” Darkwing said, noticing that Donald was giving him the ‘all clear’ signal. “Gizmoduck would do it for me, and we’re going to get him out of enemy hands as fast as possible.”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t what I was talking about at all,” Gyro said with a small snort. “Breaking into a major F.O.W.L institution, getting Gizmoduck out, not getting killed, that’s the easy part. Any moron could do that, so you’re golden.”

Darkwing frowned. “Then what are you worried about me getting into?”

“Getting on a boat in the middle of the ocean with Rosa Cabrera and Gandra Dee, of course. Watch yourself. If they’re not actively tearing at each other’s throats, it’s yours that you should be worried about.”

Darkwing frowned, eyes somewhat narrowed. “Thanks for the tip, Dr. Gearloose,” He said sarcastically. “Darkwing out.”

As he dropped from the roof and made his way over to the boat, he just hoped Gyro was wrong.

Surely, Rosa and Gandra could get along on a three-hour trip into the middle of the Pacific Ocean towards an uncharted island, right?

*****

“How can I be of service to you, Captain Friend Donald?” Storkules asked.

“I’m good,” Donald told him where he stood at the helm, glancing down occasionally at the chart that would lead them to F.O.W.L.

“Are you sure? There must be something I can do,” Storkules said, leaning down so his head was beside Donald’s, looking at the controls. His eyes lit up and he pointed at a button. “What does this do?”

“Don’t touch that!” Donald snapped, popping Storkules’ hand.

Storkules was not deterred. “And this dial, what does it inform you, O Great Captain Donald?”

“It tells me that I don’t need a backseat sailor!” Donald snapped, using his hand to push Storkules’ face away from beside his head.

Storkules blinked, looking crestfallen. “Forgive me, Donald, for I did not mean to offend. I must confess, though I know what my role must be this night, I am finding that I need something to occupy my thoughts and body until I may perform my duty.”

Donald sighed, his shoulders slumped. “I understand. I know you want to help. It’s just… tension levels are high. Fenton’s in danger, we’re going into enemy territory with zero preparation, can’t contact Uncle Scrooge or Mrs. B…” Donald let out a humorless chuckle and shook his head. “This wasn’t how I was planning for date night to go.”

Storkules stared at Donald for a moment. “Friend Donald, perhaps thou was dishonest with me this evening, when I chanced upon you and the Fair Daisy? Did I, indeed, interrupt something?”

“Eh, kinda,” Donald admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “We, uh, were hoping for some quiet time, ya know? While the kids and everyone else were gone.”

“Perhaps I am not understanding,” Storkules said. “Are not the courtship rituals known as ‘dates’ supposed to happen outside of one’s abode?”

“Well, typically, yes. Unless you want a more… private date night.”

“And I cruelly shattered that privacy with my tale of woe,” Storkules said, pressing a hand to his chest, looking aghast.

“It’s fine!” Donald insisted. “You did it for a good rea—OOF! HEY WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA?”

“I must thank thee, Friend Donald, for thou hast given me a new occupation for my mind until we reach the dreaded Isle of F.O.W.L!” Storkules proclaimed, holding Donald in a tight embrace. “Fear not, the companion of my heart, for I shall plan the best date night ever for thee and the Fair Daisy!”

“PUT ME DOWN, YOU BIG PALOOKA!” Donald yelled, struggling against Storkules. “SOMEONE NEEDS TO STEER THE BO-OOOAT!”

The last was dragged out as Storkules hastily dropped Donald, who grumbled from where he lay on the deck before pushing himself up and brushing off his sleeves.

Donald shook his head as Storkules disappeared into the boat’s cabin and he let out a sigh.

Well. At least he could focus on sailing in peace now…

*****

Gizmoduck grit his teeth as he could only helplessly watch as Black Heron explored the central cavity of the Gizmosuit, where rockets and pies manifested with near equal levels of frequency. Having this panel open while actually wearing the suit wasn’t too unusual, and not just because—again—of the pies and rockets. Sometimes Gyro would perform maintenance, fix a malfunction, run a test, or give it an upgrade—the latter was usually done with a slightly maniacal gleam in his eye.

But the difference was that Gizmoduck trusted Gyro. Even when he was riding that mad-scientist, I’m-an-invincible-and-unparalleled-genius-who-will-never-die high. Black Heron? Not so much.

Black Heron had forced the metal panels open and kept them open with large clamps, prodding with a mixture of her own metal fingers and tools, humming slightly to herself as she made her examination, her eyes gleaming like the sharper tools on the tray beside her. Gizmoduck tried not to flinch too much was she poked and prodded about.

The suit protected him from outside forces. Bombs, sharp objects, bullets, heavy objects—they could all handle those with no harm to the duck within the suit. But inside the suit was where he was vulnerable—and he couldn’t let Black Heron know that. For as long as possible, he had to delay her finding out.

The suit wasn’t operating as usual, so he didn’t know exactly how long Black Heron had been at it before she suddenly frowned and grabbed a pair of tweezers, pulling out cotton.

“What’s this?” She said.

“Ooh, cotton candy!” Steelbeak said from the corner where he had been watching, rubbing his hands together.

“It’s not cotton candy, you imbecile,” Black Heron said flatly. “Why in the world would there be cotton candy inside the Gizmoduck armor?”

“You’re the one messin’ around with the bit that makes pies and tryin’ ta figure out how it makes ‘em without all ‘em ingredients,” Steelbeak said, striding over. “So why shouldn’t there be a cotton candy machine in there, too?” With that, he plucked the cotton out from between Black Heron’s tweezers and popped it in his mouth, only to gag and spit it out onto the floor. “Nope,” He choked out with a cough. “It’s not cotton candy…”

“Thank you ever so much for your contribution to the scientific process,” Black Heron said dryly as she jabbed her tweezers back inside, pulling out more cotton. “But you were close, Steelbeak. It’s cotton. Hmm… Now why would Gyro Gearloose stuff the Gizmoduck armor with cotton?”

Gizmoduck himself didn’t answer. Black Heron didn’t need the particulars, and he wasn’t in a mood to chit-chat. Let her puzzle over it for a while longer, if it meant she left him alone.

Black Heron twirled the tweezers in her hand, studying the cotton. “Stretched cotton, over a set of wires,” She mumbled. “What purpose does it serve?”

“A soft landing?” Steelbeak suggested—or at least it was what Gizmoduck thought he said, as Steelbeak was picking cotton strands off his tongue at the time.

Black Heron didn’t respond, but her eyes suddenly brightened. “Cotton can act as an insulator against electricity—not that it seemed to do you much good, Gizmoduck. But why these red wires? What are so special about these that they need protecting?”

Gizmoduck could only watch as she reached in with her finger, running her finger along the red wire—the wires that connected directly to the suit’s processor.

AKA, Gizmoduck’s actual human brain.

Gizmoduck shuddered at the touch. He couldn’t help it. Though it wasn’t his physical body, he could feel the touch on the wires—the wires being an extension of his body.

Black Heron noticed.

“Well, now,” She said. “That is quite interesting. I wonder…”

Gizmoduck let out a cry as—quick as lightning—Black Heron reached in with her tweezers, pinching the red wire. It was like he had been stabbed in the gut, just below his ribs. She twisted her wrist and Gizmoduck convulsed at sensation—like she had been using a knife and twisting that instead.

_It’s not real,_ Gizmoduck told himself. _It’s not real. She’s not hurting your physical body. It’s not real._

But, blathering blatherskite, it _felt_ real.

“Very interesting!” Black Heron said, sounding delighted as she watched Gizmoduck writhe on the table as much as he could while strapped down as she continued to twist the wire back and forth.

“What, did you find the robot’s puppet strings?” Steelbeak asked, frowning down at Gizmoduck, and watching Black Heron warily out of the corner of his eye.

“Puppet…” Black Heron repeated in a whisper, her eyes glowing with glee. “Oh, Steelbeak, you just gave me the most wonderful idea! Perhaps you’re not an incompetent ninny after all!”

“You’re welcome,” Steelbeak said, tugging on his suit and looking smug. Then he suddenly frowned—apparently the last of what his colleague said had registered. “Hey!”

But Black Heron wasn’t listening. She had rushed around to behind Gizmoduck, where he couldn’t see her, but could definitely sense her as she got her hands on his helmet. He tensed, not knowing what to do if she took it off. But, instead, she pried open the panel on the back of the helmet.

“Ha!” Black Heron said. “I would have thought Gearloose would have gone with that ridiculous Bulb Tech of his, but this? This is genius…”

“What is?” Steelbeak asked.

“Our dear Gizmoduck here has his own brain as the processor for the armor,” Black Heron said, running over to where she had other tools. “Those red wires were protected because they represent a connection between the organic and the mechanical.”

Gizmoduck could feel his heart beating faster. What was she wanting to do with this information?

Black Heron turned back to him, grinning wickedly.

Gizmoduck’s vision blurred as he was shocked, straining against the bonds.

Finally, the electric currents ceased and Gizmoduck gasped for breath.

“What was that for?” He demanded, wheezing. “I didn’t do anything…”

“No, you didn’t,” Black Heron said, stepping over to his side. “Not yet, at least. I have a hypothesis. And that hypothesis is that, if your brain is the processor, that means different parts of your brain controls different functions in the Gizmosuit—just as it does for different parts of your regular body. The brain works through electrical activity from neurons anyway, so why not see what happens when I control the electrical activity?”

Horror went through Gizmoduck. “To use me as a puppet for F.O.W.L’s use.”

Black Heron’s smile grew. “Precisely. Now. Let’s find the armor’s version of the spinal cord, shall we? It will only take a few more shocks to find…”

*****

Darkwing was starting to seriously regret every decision he had made this evening.

Most specifically, the decision to not heed Gyro’s final warning and get on a boat with Rosa Cabrera and Gandra Dee.

They were only halfway there, but the closer they got to F.O.W.L’s island, the more the air filled with tension. Darkwing was sure that, from now on, he was always going to associate the smell of seawater with stress.

They were all dealing with it in their own ways. Penumbra was dragging a whetstone over the point of a spear. If anyone got too close to the boat’s controls, Donald would growl at them—something Darkwing had figured out the hard way because he paced when he was stressed, and there was only so much room to do so on the boat. Storkules was making some sort of detailed list, and seemed to be the least stressed out, occasionally nodding to himself with a proud smile.

Gandra couldn’t sit still, and not for a lack of trying. She’d bring up some game on her phone, only to quickly close it off. She’d move about the cabin and onto the deck, then retreat back to her original seat to try playing another game, only to start the cycle over again.

Rosa sat hunched over the small table in the cabin, counting bullets from the ammo magazines she had brought. She’d empty the magazine of the bullets, then placed on the table, ensuring that there were fifteen before reloading the magazine. There was a soft metallic _click-click-click_ of each bullet on the scratched linoleum tabletop as Rosa lined them up, followed by another _click-click-click_ as she reloaded them.

“Must you do that?” Gandra suddenly asked as Rosa started to take the bullets out of another magazine.

Darkwing paused in his pacing, a familiar feeling going through him, one he usually only felt in the middle of a night on patrol and really, really did not want to feel right now.

A fight was about to begin.

Rosa’s eyes flashed darkly as she looked across the room at Gandra, her fingers still on a bullet.

“Yes, actually, I do,” Rosa said, voice cool. “I need to know that I am prepared for whatever it is I am going to face.”

“You’re expecting to use a lot of bullets for what is supposed to be a stealth mission,” Gandra said. “I can tell you from experience that running in guns blazing is the opposite of stealth.”

“And I can tell you from my experience that no matter the mission, you need to prepare for and anticipate the worst,” Rosa replied, turning her focus on her bullets again. “Especially when you’re expecting a so-called team member to stab you in the back on a moment’s notice, not only sabotaging the mission but getting everyone killed in the process.”

Gandra sat up straighter, her eyes full of fury. “Yeah, well, maybe we wouldn’t be on this mission if it wasn’t for you.”

Rosa whirled on her. “What?” She growled.

“You heard me!” Gandra snapped, leaping to her feet. “And you heard Fenton earlier. He could have stopped that hold-up before it even really began if he hadn’t been coming to the lab, because _you_ came to the lab to oh-so-pleasantly remind me that you think I’m going to turn traitor at any second! So, congratulations, your freaking paranoia is responsible for all of us going and risking our lives tonight!”

“That’s rich,” Rosa snapped, getting to her feet and crossing the short distance to get in Gandra’s face. “Because Gizmoduck wouldn’t have even been on F.O.W.L’s radar if it weren’t for you! This is all your fault, Gandra Dee!”

“ENOUGH!”

The roar from Donald was enough to make everyone jump, then nearly topple over as the boat came to a sudden, dead stop.

Donald stormed away from the boat controls, his face full of anger, his eyes blazing as he stepped between Rosa and Gandra, pushing them away from each other.

“Knock it off, both of you!” Donald yelled.

“Stay out of—” Rosa started to growl at him, but Donald whirled on her, shouting,

“No! I’m captain here, and you’re going to listen to me! This is why Darkwing didn’t want you to come, Rosa, and I don’t care that he’s in charge of the mission, this is my boat and what I say goes! If you don’t get your act together, you’re not stepping foot off this boat—and _you do not want to try me_ , Rosa Cabrera.

“And you!” Gandra flinched as Donald turned to her, pointing at her. “You were out of line! You escalated the situation! You can’t just go around picking fights. Because, guess what? You can’t win them all, and you have picked the biggest fight against F.O.W.L and I guarantee that, by the end of the night, _they’re going to know it_.”

Donald huffed and gave both Gandra and Rosa a sharp look before spitting out, “Sort out your problems or don’t—I don’t care. But if you can’t work together tonight, then don’t bother getting off this boat. I’m not going to let anyone get hurt—or worse—on my watch.”

As Donald stormed back to the controls, everyone watched him leave, a bit shell-shocked. Penumbra was clutching her spear to her chest with wide-eyes. The fact that the Moonlander warrior was terrified by Donald’s display of anger and fury-filled words simultaneously did and did not reassure Darkwing.

It reassured him in that he wasn’t the only one who had been absolutely terrified by one Donald Fauntleroy Duck.

And it did not reassure Darkwing in that this mission was quickly going south—and he had no alternative plans.

Rosa retreated to the deck, leaning her arms on the railing to watch the water spray that was left in their wake. Gandra, however, retreated to a corner, her headphones on and her hood up, every bit a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign.

Darkwing sighed and rubbed his forehead, tossing his hat on the seat beside Penumbra. “I’m gonna go talk to her…” He mumbled, following Rosa out.

Storkules hesitated, then went to sit down beside Gandra. He didn’t speak at first, didn’t engage her. Gandra was a bit like a caged wild animal. She had claws. She wasn’t tame. And she’d attack when she felt threatened or cornered.

Some would put a wild animal in a cage and break that animal, wearing it down into submission and compliance. Storkules knew better, though. Trust and respect were better. He was thoroughly expecting to have his head proverbially ripped off when he first got too close. Perhaps he should have waited.

Gandra didn’t yell, though, or tell him to leave her presence. Perhaps the fight had been drained out of her. Perhaps she was too distressed by Donald’s threatening ultimatum. Perhaps she was too wrapped up in her anger, bottling it up further for another moment of rage-filled tongue-lashing. Perhaps she didn’t even notice that Storkules was there, or didn’t care. Either way, she didn’t speak for several moments.

That was fine. Storkules would wait as long as he needed.

It paid off, because a few moments later, Gandra snapped, “She acts like this is only affecting her. Like she is the only one who has a reason to be upset about Fenton. But she’s not! Why can’t she accept that?”

With that, she huffed and rested her chin on her knees.

Storkules took a deep breath, and said, “Did you know, Gandra of Dee, that I have at times been told that I am not terribly observant?”

“No, but I could take a wild guess on that one,” Gandra grumbled.

“Why, this very evening, I happened to be unaware that I had interrupted the ‘date night’ of my dearest friend Donald and the Fair Daisy. I am not good at picking up on small details. I shall never become a detective like Rosa or our companions in crime solving. I don’t notice things. However, I have noticed something that I do not believe anyone else has tonight.”

“And what’s that?” Gandra asked dryly.

“Perhaps you are better suited for discovering the truth,” Storkules told her. He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Go forth and ask this question of Rosa: ‘What is that which is around your neck, that which you bring out and clasp tight in your fist when you believe no one is watching?’”

With that, Storkules nudged Gandra’s arm, tilting his head to point to where Rosa stood on the deck, Darkwing putting his hand on her shoulder and saying something in a low voice before walking away. Gandra frowned as she watched as Rosa reached into her shirt and pulled out something, wrapping her fist around it tightly. Something special. Something she kept close to her chest.

“And why do you think she’ll tell me, if it’s that important to her?” Gandra asked.

“Because you both share something important. Someone important. And I think that, deep down, she recognizes that. She may not be ready to accept that, but she knows it nevertheless,” Storkules said. His gaze was soft as he said, “You both love Fenton. Regardless of your differences, you both share that in common. I believe you can work together tonight, even if loving the same man is the only similarity you shall ever share.”

Gandra reached up and lowered her headphones so that they were around her neck, but didn’t lower her hood. She stood up and took a deep, steadying breath.

Then she headed towards the deck.

*****

Rosa stared at the endless inky expanse of the sea as it passed her by, and sighed as she felt Darkwing’s presence.

“Donald is right, and you were right,” She said softly. “I should have stayed back in Duckburg.”

“I would have fought harder against you coming if I didn’t think you’d be a valuable asset,” Darkwing told her, resting his folded arms on the railing beside her.

Rosa closed her eyes. “I am sorry. For trying to use Gosalyn to force you into letting me come along.”

“Look, I get it, I do,” Darkwing said. “He’s your son. You’re scared. You want him home, and safe. Like any parent would in this situation. Not that, you know, too many parents are in this situation. At least, I don’t think so. Come to think of it, I know a lot of parents who have been in a similar situation like this. Huh. Should I extend my parent-friend circle, or…?”

“Don’t, because your only options for making parent-friends is joining the school’s Parent-Teacher Association, and—believe me—that is something you only do once if you value your sanity.”

“Yeah, I don’t have time for the PTA with my HOA President duties and vigilante crime-fighting anyway,” Darkwing said, nodding. “Anyways, my point is, you’re upset. You have every reason to be. But so does Gandra.”

Rosa turned her head to glare at Darkwing, who continued to speak, undeterred.

“Fenton’s her boyfriend, but he’s also her friend. Her ally. She doesn’t have too many of those. He’s one of the few people who trusts her, who believes in her, who supports her as she’s making an incredibly difficult, incredibly painful, incredibly dangerous life-altering decision. She knows that we all have our doubts about her and her motives. We made that clear. She’s lost a lot of her freedom—something that is hard no matter who you are, no matter what you’ve been through in life, no matter what age you are. I’m glad that she has Fenton in her corner, but if she loses him now…”

Rosa turned away as Darkwing let the unfinished sentence hang between them, the sound of splashing and the boat’s motor white noise keeping them from being in silence.

Darkwing put his hand on Rosa’s shoulder, and she turned so that he could look her in the eye as he said,

“I just want you to think about this: You and Gandra both love Fenton. And, after this, he’s going to need that love and support from you two. But, for now, what he needs most is for you to work together.”

Darkwing then pat her shoulder once and retreated back into the cabin, leaving Rosa alone in the night.

Almost unconsciously, Rosa reached into her shirt and tugged out the two items she wore on a cord around her neck, clutching her fingers around them, letting the items leave indents in her flesh.

“Whatcha got there?”

Rosa turned and frowned at Gandra, who leaned her back against the rail, her elbows resting on the rail.

“Why do you care?” Rosa asked.

“Because, whatever it is, it matters to you.”

Rosa stared at her for a long moment before unclenching her fingers, allowing Gandra to see the two gold rings on a cord.

Gandra’s expression was unreadable. “Yours?”

“Mine,” Rosa confirmed. “And… my husband’s.” She paused. “Has Fenton ever talked about his father?”

“Briefly,” Gandra responded. “Fenton mentioned that his dad died when he was little. He was a firefighter, right?”

Rosa nodded. “He was so young when Hamilton died, I’d be surprised if he remembers anything about him.” She glanced down at the rings again, closing her eyes and her fingers over them. “You know, there were some people who called us crazy, stupid even, for both of us going back to our jobs after Fenton hatched. We were both in fields that put us into dangerous situations almost every day. But I had just made detective, and Ham was months away from a promotion of his own. And we were young, and full of life and love and happiness, and thought we were invincible. And, for a while, we were. All it took was one call—one fire—to shatter that idea.”

Rosa sighed and opened her eyes, glancing over sadly at Gandra. “If we don’t get Fenton back… I don’t know what I’ll do. He’s my whole world. He’s been my whole world for a very long time. Fenton kept me going after I lost Ham, because I still had that little piece of him, you know?”

“I don’t,” Gandra admitted, her voice soft and almost unheard over the motor. “I… I’ve never had anyone to love like that. Anyone to love me like that. At least, not before Fenton.” She was quiet for a moment, then she said, “It was supposed to be easy, you know? Me getting the Gizmoduck passcode, when we first met. Get in, get what I needed, get out, roll credits, fade to black, all that. Fenton was way too easy of a mark. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and is too honest and open for his own good. I wasn’t supposed to fall for him. I wasn’t supposed to forget the mission. I wasn’t supposed to let it go on, let my feelings take over. But they did. Because he saw something in me that said I could do better, be better. No one has ever seen that in me before, not in a way that didn’t further their own goals and needs. And I realized I _wanted_ to be better. I wanted to be that person he saw, the person I thought I could never be. It just took one person, the right person, believing it—believing in me—that made the difference. That gave me the confidence to leave F.O.W.L.”

“You really care about Fenton,” Rosa said, a statement, not a question. She sighed. “I can’t deny that, as much as I’ve tried to. As much as I’ve wanted to believe otherwise. I’m… I’m sorry. For not being willing to give you a chance.”

“And I’m sorry for blaming you,” Gandra said. “Sorry for the danger I’ve put you and your family in. Sorry for, well, everything.” A small smile crossed her face. “Now. Let’s bring our boy home.”

Rosa took a deep breath and nodded, smiling. “Let’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record and before anyone jumps into the comments to ask, no, I did not give Fenton's dad the name "Hamilton" after the Broadway musical based off the life of the titular American Founding Father, written by and starring DT17's Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera's VA, Lin-Manuel Miranda (which, also for the record, I have not seen nor heard any of the songs--which is honestly weird, given how much I am a nerd over Revolution-era American history). Rather, I named Fenton's dad after Gizmoduck/Fenton Crackshell's original DT87 VA, Hamilton Camp. That they just happen to share the name 'Hamilton' is a weird and honestly kind of freaky coincidence.


	4. Chapter 4

Donald stood on the deck, tapping his foot, his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised as he looked back and forth between Rosa and Gandra.

“Well?” He demanded. “What’s it gonna be?”

“We have… reached a truce of sorts,” Gandra admitted.

“We can work together,” Rosa agreed.

Donald took a deep breath and nodded. “Then it’s go time.”

*****

There wasn’t much to see from where Gizmoduck was laying, but his vision was swimming.

Gizmoduck had been through a lot in his tenure as a crime-fighter.

But this?

This was too much.

Every bit of him hurt, his back especially, where the shocks originated from. His head was spinning and he could barely keep his eyes open. His ears were ringing. His mouth was dry and his stomach was churning like he was going to be ill, and yet also the claws of hunger scraped through him—a reminder that he didn’t know when his last meal had been, his last drink of water.

Worse, all of the pain seemed to echo as he ached inside and out—literally. His physical, organic body had taken a beating, but that was nothing compared to the desecration the suit had gone through. Lasers, saws, welding torches, drills, and brute force had been used to pry panels off. Large clamps held open some panels, while smaller clamps were pinched around the wires, meaning that even though he could already feel pain with every heartbeat, it was intensified through his connection with the suit.

Gizmoduck wasn’t sure how he was still alive, given how many volts of electricity his body had been put through. The suit was dead, though. Finally and completely dead, and he had no idea if it would be capable of a full reboot or if it was Bluescreen-of-Death dead. The suit had held out for the longest of time, even though he couldn’t use any of his tools or access the computer. But it was now a hollow shell around him.

The suit that was responsible for saving the day, saving lives, couldn’t do anything to protect the person within the suit.

Gizmoduck fought to keep his eyes open, and it was a great struggle. But though every part of him wanted to simply be taken by sleep, knowing that was the only way to be rid of this horrible pain, he could not. He would not. He would not make himself even more vulnerable to Black Heron, to Steelbeak, to F.O.W.L.

Relief came in the unexpected form of Femme Fatale striding into the lab.

“Black Heron,” She said, a frown on her face. “We have company.”

“Handle it, then,” Black Heron said dismissively, not even looking at the other F.O.W.L agent, instead perusing her arsenal of torture tools, trying to determine which one to use next to torture Gizmoduck. “You have a plethora of Eggheads at your disposal.”

“I don’t think the Directors will take too kindly to me ordering Eggheads to attack this company.” Femme Fatale said, an odd mixture of ire and amusement in her voice.

Black Heron paused then and turned to her.

“Who is it?” She demanded.

Femme Fatale simply smirked. “Come see for yourself.”

Black Heron huffed and grabbed the remote, tucking it in her pocket. “Steelbeak, come,” She barked as she stormed out of the lab. Steelbeak obediently followed her, but Femme Fatale lingered, her gaze on Gizmoduck.

Femme Fatale smirked again and blew him a kiss before slinking out of the room, leaving Gizmoduck alone in the dark.

Then, and only then, did he let his body succumb to nothingness.

*****

Black Heron’s beak twisted in displeasure and distaste.

“Huh,” Steelbeak said. “Guess you were wrong about her not showin’ her mug around here.”

“Quiet,” Black Heron snapped as she watched Gandra Dee storm in through the front doors.

So focused, in fact, that she didn’t even catch sight of a small robotic light bulb slipping in the door behind her…

Gandra stopped a few paces in front of Black Heron, her fists at her side before she quickly raised an accusatory finger and snapped,

“You are so dead when the Directors find out what huge opportunity we almost missed because of your interference in my mission, Black Heron!”

*****

Lil Bulb was in. It didn’t take much. It was easy to find the security room, even easier to grab hold of a wire underneath the desks—completely out of sight—and attach it to his circuitry and transmit the data back to Gyro in the lab…

*****

Back in the lab, the screens before Gyro and Manny came alive and they were moving.

“Looping security cameras,” Gyro mumbled. “Deactivating security sensors. And… Darkwing, your team should have the maps in five, four, three, two, one…”

*****

From where Darkwing Duck, Storkules and Rosa bobbed in the water beneath the docks, the special glasses Gyro had outfitted them with came to life. While they could see through the glass, they also had a filter that had maps and could alert them when they were coming up on other people.

The glasses flashed, showing them an exterior shot of the fortress before zoning in on a spot in a side wall.

“Three minutes to get to this exact spot for most efficient entry point,” Gyro told them. “And… go.”

*****

Black Heron bristled at Gandra’s accusation, especially as she followed it up by folding her arms over her chest and declaring, “Lucky for you, I managed to salvage a F.O.W.L victory, but just barely. No thanks to you.”

The impertinent little brat…

“And just what,” Black Heron snapped. “Has the great Savior of F.O.W.L done this time?”

Gandra reached into her pocket and pulled out a flash-drive, wiggling it some in the air.

“While you’ve been wasting your time and resources to get your hands on Gizmoduck, I was letting Gearloose and his weak-minded interns do all the heavy lifting. This drive has the code for an update to the armor that Gearloose was getting ready to install next week, one I didn’t even have to modify to take advantage of. Just sit back and wait, with no risks of being caught. And you blew it.”

Steelbeak laughed. “Ha! She told you!”

“Quiet!” Black Heron snapped, her metal arm reaching out to grab Steelbeak by the beak, ignoring how he struggled in her grip. “What sort of update did Gearloose create?”

“This update has a glitch in the coding. The original intent of the update was to give the armor a functioning siren, but has a glitch in the coding that allows for the Gizmoduck armor to emit an ultra-high frequency soundwave that it entirely silent to the naked ear.”

“And you believe that this has an application for evil purposes?” Femme Fatale asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, when you can use it to send subliminal messages,” Gandra said.

“Uh, that’s dumb,” Steelbeak declared, reaching up to adjust his jacket. “Why would we need to use that fancy soundwave to send messages to people on submarines? We don’t even _have_ a submarine.”

The three women of F.O.W.L turned and stared at him in silence for just long enough that Steelbeak shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “What?” He asked.

Gandra put a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow at Black Heron. “Directors’ really put you on a shoestring budget this time, huh?”

Black Heron scowled. “I want to see this so-called update myself.”

“Fine,” Gandra said. “We’ll go to my lab and you can see for yourself.”

To Gandra’s confusion, Femme Fatale and Steelbeak both looked alarmed by this suggestion. And, worse, Black Heron smiled as she said,

“That sounds like a delightful idea, Dee.”

*****

Darkwing almost couldn’t believe their luck. They were in, they hadn’t been caught yet—though they did have one close call with some passing Eggheads—and they were approaching Black Heron’s lab, where Gyro and Lil Bulb had confirmed Gizmoduck was being held.

While they waited for Gyro to override the lock on the door, Darkwing pointed at Rosa. “You’re on lookout,” He whispered, then pointed at Storkules, “And you’re with me.”

They both nodded, Rosa unholstering her weapon to have in hand as the door let out a beep and the door slid open.

Darkwing and Storkules slipped inside, walking quietly into the lab space. They both saw Gizmoduck immediately, lying on a table, arms outstretched in a T.

“Gizmoduck!” They both exclaimed in loud-whispers, surging forward to their friend’s aid.

However, they both stopped in their tracks a few paces before they got to the table.

“Oh, phooey,” Darkwing breathed.

Gizmoduck was strapped to the table, held down with thick metal straps. Given that he hadn’t yet turned his head towards the noise of their entrance, Darkwing had to assume he was unconscious. But all around him, on carts, on the floor, were pieces of the armor. Large clamps held open the torso, and there were wires running from the chest cavity. And Darkwing did not want to think too much about that very distinct scent of singed feathers in the air.

“Gyro of Gearloose is not going to like this one bit,” Storkules declared.

“What am I not going to like?” Gyro asked in their ears, both having forgotten that he could hear them through their earpieces.

“Doesn’t matter right now, you’ll see soon enough,” Darkwing answered, reaching into his pocket to pull out the same laser that he had used to cut a hole in the side of the fortress minutes before. “What matters is we’re getting him out of here. Now. Storkules, see if you can wake him. I’m going to get these cuffs off him.”

“Gizmoduck, awaken, for we have come to rescue you!” Storkules said, gently poking at Gizmoduck to get him to awaken. A small groan escaped the armored duck, which was—if nothing else—reassuring that he was alive.

“Hey, buddy, I need you to wake up and give me some clue as to what to yank and what to not touch,” Darkwing said as he worked on the strap around Gizmoduck’s right wrist. “You and I both know Gyro’s going to lose it when he sees this mess—so let’s try and minimize the damage where we can, huh?”

That invoked another groan and a mumbled, garbled series of what could have been words but sounded like “Black Heron”.

“These wires are all Black Heron’s?” Darkwing asked for confirmation. “So I can cut them and it’s not going to harm you?”

“Suit’s dead,” Gizmoduck muttered, the first coherent thing Darkwing and Storkules had heard from him.

Darkwing and Storkules exchanged a glance. They had come here knowing that it was very likely that Gizmoduck would neither enter nor leave the F.O.W.L stronghold on his own power. It was one of the reasons Darkwing had selected Storkules for this part of the mission; he had the brawn to carry Gizmoduck in his bulky armor out. But this was worse than what they were expecting.

Still, they had to ask, and Storkules lowered his voice, asking,

“Esteemed companion in arms, have the F.O.W.L fiends learned of your secret identity?”

Gizmoduck merely grunted.

“That’s not a yes or a no, and it needs to be one or the other,” Darkwing commented as he moved on to the band fastened just above Gizmoduck’s wheel.

“No.”

Darkwing and Storkules both breathed a sigh of relief. Darkwing made quick work of freeing Gizmoduck, getting rid of the clamps and cords. Storkules carefully lifted Gizmoduck and they started for the door.

That, of course, was when their luck started to run out.

*****

Gandra couldn’t remember the last time she had stepped foot in this lab that was hers, but she knew very well that it could have been the last time ever.

Which was perhaps why seeing it trashed was so distressing.

Horror and rage flooding her, Gandra didn’t have to fake her emotions as she growled at Black Heron, “What did you do?”

“Oh, relax,” Black Heron said, striding into the mess of the lab, kicking aside broken glass. “Just had a little trouble finding something I needed.”

“Something you needed from _my_ lab?” Gandra demanded. “And just what was that? A brain?”

“No, something you made that is actually useful,” Black Heron said.

Gandra watched as Black Heron reached into a pocket and pulled out an empty beaker. Empty… except for a few droplets of light blue liquid.

Gandra’s nanite serum.

“What the hell are you doing with my nanites?” Gandra demanded.

“How about I show you?” Black Heron said, almost purring. “Steelbeak, be a doll, will you, and bring up the security footage of my lab?”

Steelbeak was quick to comply, turning on the large computer screen in Gandra’s lab—cockeyed but unbroken—and Gandra felt like she had been punched in the gut when she saw Gizmoduck spread out on the table, looking as if he was being dissected.

She knew that, by now, this was all looped footage. But even that knowledge wasn’t very comforting, because if it was looped, it had to come from somewhere.

Still, she acted nonchalant, leaning with her back against a counter. “So, what? You filled the Gizmoduck armor with my nanites? They only work with organic material. You could have dumped a jumbo-size slurpie in the thing and it would have done more damage.”

“Hey!” Steelbeak exclaimed. “That was one time!”

“Oh, I’m very well aware of the limitations of your nanites,” Black Heron said. “And, no, I didn’t fill the Gizmoduck armor with your nanite serum. But I did, in a way, get them inside the suit.”

“So you force-fed Gizmoduck my serum?” Gandra asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Wait,” Femme Fatale said, narrowing her eyes at Black Heron. “We could have force-fed Gizmoduck the serum?”

“Well, yes, in theory, but—” Black Heron started to say but Femme Fatale cut her off.

“But you just had to go and find the armor’s one weakness to stick it to Gearloose. Of course you did, you petty little—”

“Are you aware that I can hear your inane bickering all the way from Duckburg?”

Well, at least Gandra’s reaction of pure horror at seeing Director Bradford Buzzard in the doorway didn’t have to be faked. Nor was she alone in having that reaction.

“Director Buzzard!” Black Heron exclaimed. “We had no idea you were coming!”

“I’m fully aware of that,” Bradford snapped as he strode into the room, his hands behind his back as he took in the carnage of Gandra’s lab. “In fact, I ensured that you were unaware that I was coming. Interesting choices in redecorating, Agent Dee.”

“Yeah, well, I had some unwanted assistance,” Gandra said, pushing herself away from the counter.

Bradford humphed and strode forward, staring at the screen. “I see you succeeded in obtaining Gizmoduck, Black Heron. Now, fill me in on how you’re treating our VIP?”

“As I was just explaining to Agent Dee, our Very Important Prisoner has been undergoing a nanite serum treatment,” Black Heron said.

“Yeah, the kind that’s not good for the skin,” Steelbeak crowed with a laugh.

Black Heron sighed in annoyance before continuing, pulling out a remote, “As you will see, esteemed Director, I have adhered nanites to the body of the man in the Gizmoduck armor. This allows me to control him through a series of electrical shocks.”

Horror flooded Gandra once again as Black Heron lifted the remote, aimed at the screen displaying Gizmoduck.

_Oh no…_ She thought.

“Observe.” Black Heron said as she pressed a button on the remote, all eyes on the screen.

Nothing happened.

*****

What did it say about Darkwing’s life that getting whacked in the face with a hand made of titanium alloy that was currently electrified didn’t even rank in his Top Ten Most Painful Moments in his crime-fighting career?

That being said, he had bigger problems.

Like that Gizmoduck was currently being electrocuted from no discernable source.

“What did you do?” Rosa demanded, her eyes wide with horror as Storkules struggled to hold on to Gizmoduck.

“I don’t know!” Darkwing yelled back, trying and failing to think of what to do. “He said the suit was dead!”

*****

Black Heron frowned as Gizmoduck continued to lay on her lab table, unmoving. Even if he was unconscious, he should have at least convulsed.

“Observe!” She declared again, pressing the button.

Once more, nothing happened. Not a single twitch.

“Maybe the batteries are dead?” Steelbeak suggested.

Gandra stormed over and snatched the remote out of Black Heron’s hand, dropping it into her cargo pocket. “That’s what you get for screwing around with tech that’s not yours!”

Black Heron eyed the younger agent. Something didn’t seem right… Her anger seemed unwarranted, even if it was related to Black Heron’s thievery. If nothing else, she should have gloated.

Black Heron regained her composure. “Well, in that case, allow me to escort you all to my lab. You can see for yourself what progress I’ve made.” She turned to Gandra and said, “Unless anyone has any objections?”

Gandra scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why would I have any objections?” She asked, agitation clear in her voice.

Oh, she was hiding something, alright… But what?

“Then, by all means, lead the way, Agent Dee,”

“Gladly,” Gandra snapped, storming out of the lab.

*****

As suddenly as the electricity-induced convulsions began, they ended, Gizmoduck once again limp in Storkules’ arms, leaving Storkules, Darkwing, and Rosa all highly perturbed by what had happened.

“Are you alright?” Darkwing asked the demigod.

Storkules nodded. “The lightning bolts of my father, the Almighty Zeus, are far more powerful and painful.” He glanced down at Gizmoduck in his grasp. “Though I believe it is imperative we get our friend into the care of Dr. Schwanz the Wise as soon as possible.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Rosa said sharply. “We’ve already drawn too much attention to ourselves. Gearloose, start that distraction for us.”

“Lil Bulb, you heard the woman,” Gyro said.

*****

As she marched down the hall, Director Bradford, Black Heron, Steelbeak, and Femme Fatale close behind, Gandra tried to reign in her emotions, putting up a shield, trying not to panic.

They had to have Gizmoduck by now. They had to be making their way out by now. Any moment now, she’d get the first signs of Lil Bulb’s distraction.

Gandra sucked in a breath, her heart skipping a beat and her steps slowing.

“Is something the matter, Agent Dee?” Director Bradford asked.

“No sir,” Gandra said, forcing herself to move, not letting him see her face.

She could fool Steelbeak with no problem. Black Heron and Femme Fatale were a little trickier and required complete control and poise.

But Director Bradford would instantly see the panic in her eyes.

Because she never actually got the flash-drive with the virus—the most central component of the distraction—into a F.O.W.L computer.

She needed to delay. Take a wrong turn? Stop and say she needed to double back for something? Epically fake trip on the floor? Turn around and attack them all with nothing but her own bioelectricity in her hands?

At least her friends were headed in the opposite direction by now.

*****

Darkwing wanted to know where his distraction was.

“Gyro, what’s taking Lil Bulb so long?” Darkwing asked.

“He says that the program can’t launch,” Gyro explained, agitation clear in his voice. “It’s not there. Dee either got compromised or wasn’t able to talk her way into getting anywhere near a computer. But we have a bigger problem.”

“What could possibly be a bigger problem?” Darkwing demanded, then regretted it when Gyro told him.

“Launchpad says that our intended landing zone for the Thunderquack is occupied by a helicopter, because apparently F.O.W.L had yet another unexpected visitor.”

Darkwing glanced over his shoulder and Rosa and Storkules, both of whom frowned.

“Can he still land somewhere else?” Rosa asked. “Or recall Donald?”

“We can do both, but you’d have to find a place to hide with two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of dead weight and still find a way out if we go the sea-route,” Gyro said. “I can patch into Gandra and have her pretend that her ride came back and it was planned.”

“And if we go by air?” Darkwing asked.

“The Thunderquack parks in what it is literally F.O.W.L’s front yard because that is the only safe place to do so and you run like your life depends on it to get there, because it does.”

Darkwing let out a low hiss. Both ideas were risky. Both ideas involved doubling back and finding a new exit. But only one would get Gizmoduck into Elise’s capable hands the fastest.

One way or another, they had to be done with stealth-mode.

“Tell Launchpad we need him on the ground in ten,” Darkwing said. “Tell Donald to stop where he is, because we may still need him.”

“Why would we need both the Thunderquack and Donald’s vessel?” Storkules asked.

“Because you are going to leave any fighting to me and Rosa,” Darkwing said. “You’re the only one who can get Gizmoduck to the Thunderquack, and you are going to tell Launchpad to take off without us.”

Storkules shook his head. “No. I will never leave my fellow warriors behind.”

“Darkwing is right,” Rosa spoke up. “Get Gizmoduck and yourself out. We’ll find a way out on our own.”

“And if we don’t, Mr. McDuck and Mrs. B will know what to do,” Darkwing added.

Storkules gave them both a look that said that would do as he was instructed, but he wouldn’t be happy about it.

“Then let’s get dangerous,” Darkwing said.

And so they turned around and ran back the way they came.

*****

The only warning Gandra got was Gyro’s voice in her ear, saying, “Dee, the plan has changed. By a lot.”

Gandra didn’t even have time to wonder what, exactly, that meant when they stopped at Black Heron’s lab.

Whatever had happened, at least she’d be able to buy them all time when they got inside. Maybe she could lock them all inside, override the locking mechanism…

The door slid open and, immediately, they could all see what was glaringly obvious.

Gizmoduck was gone.

“Buh?” Steelbeak exclaimed, his eyes wide.

“What?” Femme Fatale hissed.

“Where is he?” Black Heron yelled.

“And how did he get past every single bit of our security?” Director Bradford asked, rage also in his tone but at a much calmer volume.

There wasn’t a good moment for there to be the sound of running feet, quickly skidding to a stop in the hall. But this? This was most definitely the worst moment.

*****

“Ah, phooey…” Darkwing grunted as the five members of F.O.W.L turned to see the caped superhero, the cop, and the demigod carrying a very-much-unconscious Gizmoduck.

He could barely see Gandra, blocked as she was by the other four F.O.W.L agents. He had never seen them before, but recognized three of them by Gandra’s descriptions.

The bruiser with the steel beak, not-so-creatively called Steelbeak.

The older female heron who was a scientist, Black Heron.

A gorgeous and glamourous female duck who was way too over-dressed for a spy fortress in the middle of the ocean, Femme Fatale.

And then there was the older male buzzard, rage seething off of him. He didn’t have a clue who that was.

Darkwing’s brow furrowed. No, he recognized the fourth.

“Bradford Buzzard.” Darkwing said, his teeth suddenly on edge.

This man was on Scrooge McDuck’s board of directors. Scrooge had briefly introduced him to Darkwing only a few weeks ago, when Bradford and the other two directors put in a quick appearance at the social hour at the bachelor auction that had started this whole mess.

Which meant F.O.W.L had been right under their noses all along, before Gandra even came into their lives. And they hadn’t even known it.

“Darkwing Duck,” Bradford Buzzard growled.

It really wasn’t the right time, but…

“You know my name?” Darkwing said, suddenly grinning like an idiot, putting his fingertips to his chest. “And not as ‘Purple Weirdo’?”

“Darkwing,” Rosa snapped.

“Right. Sorry.” Darkwing said, reaching into his pocket. He then hurled a handful of smoke-bombs at the F.O.W.L agents.

Darkwing beckoned to Rosa and Storkules, and they ran into the cloud of smoke, pushing past the F.O.W.L agents.

Because the only way out was through.

*****

Gandra didn’t hesitate, she ran down the hall after Darkwing, Rosa and Storkules, leaving the other members of F.O.W.L in the smoke.

She just had to hope that it was interpreted as an attempt to stop them, to chase them, instead of to join them.

And as she heard footsteps behind her, following her, followed by the distinct sounds of Steelbeak’s voice and Femme Fatale’s heels, she had to hope she could outrun them.

*****

They were nearly there, they were so close, they were just about in the atrium of the fortress…

Something glinted in the light as it sailed over their heads.

Darkwing skidded to a stop as the bomb exploded, sticking his arm out to stop Rosa, who let out a shout of surprise as they both teetered backwards with the force of the aftershocks.

Darkwing and Rosa turned around, weapons drawn, while Storkules kept running, his balance not thrown off in the slightest by the explosion.

There were three F.O.W.L agents behind them: Steelbeak, Femme Fatale, and Gandra Dee, all backed with a small army of Eggheads.

Against the two of them.

“Alright,” Darkwing yelled confidently. “Which one of you would like to surrender first?”

“How about you do the honors?” Steelbeak yelled back as he withdrew his own pistol, taking a shot.

Darkwing and Rosa each jumped to the side, Rosa firing her own weapon as she went to find cover. Darkwing dove into a roll, taking aim with his own gas gun.

*****

Femme Fatale’s sneer dropped, her eyes widening, her hand lowering from where she prepared to hurl another one of her diamonds—made of paste and explosives.

Her eyes were locked on the weapon in Darkwing Duck’s hands.

No, it couldn’t be… She hadn’t seen that in…

In a very long time.

Darkwing Duck fired, with a shout of, “Suck gas, F.O.W.L fiends!”

As the area in front of her filled with smoke, she pushed through it, throwing her diamonds.

She had to get her hands on it. She wouldn’t let that gas gun escape her grasp again.

And if Darkwing Duck didn’t leave the island alive, well, that was just a nice bonus.

*****

Rosa took advantage of the smoke cover and shot blindly, sending up a quick prayer that Gandra was smart enough to take cover and not get hit. She heard bullets ricochet, both in the direction in which she had fired and closer to her.

She heard the distinct clicking sound from her weapon; an entire magazine, spent.

But Rosa was no rookie. She had done this dozens of times in routine training exercises and in the field. This wasn’t her first shootout. The smoke was still thick enough that she could move; it was always harder to shoot a moving target and the longer she stayed still, even as she changed out her magazine, the more at-risk she was, especially if even one of the F.O.W.L operatives heard the sound of her empty gun.

She made all these decisions in milliseconds, nearly thirty years of training and muscle memory and being driven entirely by gut instinct. She was running the second she heard the click.

She was picking out her next barricade as she dropped the empty magazine from her weapon.

She was still running as she pulled out the replacement magazine.

She was almost to the barricade…

She tripped.

She dropped the magazine, heard it skitter across the floor.

She managed to recover her footing, to keep running, but she silently cursed.

There was no way she would be able to recover that magazine of ammunition. She had just lost fifteen bullets in one go.

As she slid behind the barricade, she pulled out the next magazine, hearing it click into place.

Fifteen bullets left.

Rosa had to make each one count.

*****

Black Heron skidded to a stop when she realized Bradford was no longer behind her, heading towards the atrium.

Instead, he was headed to the control room.

“What are you doing? They went that way!” Black Heron shouted after him, pointing in the direction Darkwing Duck and his team had gone.

“Making sure that our prisoners don’t leave,” Bradford called back sharply.

Black Heron didn’t hesitate, and ran after him.

*****

Storkules did not stop running. He wasn’t even entirely certain that he had stopped once he actually made it into the Thunderquack.

“Darkwing says to go, now!” Storkules ordered Launchpad as he laid Gizmoduck on the floor at Elise’s feet, the doctor already dropping to her knees.

Storkules could see the set of the pilot’s jaw, but he did not question nor hesitate. He started the engines, they were about to lift…

Launchpad jerked the Thunderquack back to the ground and bright white lights shined down on them, blinding him.

Over the noise of the engines, and the sounds of gunfire and explosions from within the fortress, a loud, booming voice called through a loudspeaker,

“Surrender, Darkwing Duck, or we will shoot your vessel known as the Thunderquack.”

*****

Darkwing fired another smoke bomb right as he heard Bradford Buzzard’s voice echo throughout the room.

He managed to slide over beside Rosa behind her barricade, the two of them pressing down onto the floor behind the toppled decorative column, a casualty of one of Femme Fatale’s bombs.

“It’s over, Darkwing. You cannot escape F.O.W.L.” Bradford continued. “You are surrounded. We have weapons targeted on the Thunderquack. And in thirty seconds we’ll have our security cameras back online and will know exactly where you are hiding. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.”

“Darkwing, I’m almost out of bullets, I lost a magazine,” Rosa told him in a hiss.

“I’m running low on my gas gun capsules and smoke bombs,” Darkwing confessed.

“Do you think we can negotiate with them? To let the Thunderquack go?” Rosa asked.

Darkwing shook his head. “No. I recognized Bradford, said his name. Storkules heard it, and Bradford knows it.”

Rosa took a deep breath and said, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah?” Darkwing said, peeking around their barricade.

“Full disclosure, it’s a terrible idea.”

“Honestly don’t think we have time to come up with a good idea, so let’s roll with the terrible one.”

Rosa nodded. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

*****

Gandra’s heart was pounding. There had to be a way out of this, there had to be a way to get her friends out of danger, maybe she could…

A plume of purple smoke appeared on one side of the room, accompanied by: “I am the terror that flaps in the night!”

“Over there!” Steelbeak shouted, pointing. “Shoot!”

Eggheads dutifully followed the instruction, only to get off a few shots before another cloud of smoke appeared on the other side of the room.

“I am the fly in the ointment of evil!”

Femme Fatale hurled another one of her diamond-bombs at the smoke.

Not one member of FOWL saw or heard anything as Gandra was yanked backwards, sharply and harshly, a hand over her beak.

*****

From where he sat in the security booth, Bradford and Black Heron watched as Darkwing Duck dropped from the ceiling from where he had swung on his grappling hook, landing close to the doorway.

“I,” Darkwing Duck declared. “Am Darkwing Duck! And I’m willing to call your bluff, Buzzard, for I have taken your Agent Dee hostage!”

The woman who had accompanied Darkwing Duck strode over, one arm around Gandra’s throat while in her other hand she pressed her gun to the side of Gandra’s head. Gandra’s own hands were tugging fruitlessly on the woman’s arm, her eyes wide with fear and panic.

“Well,” Black Heron said flatly. “This is an unexpected twist.”

*****

Rosa was right, this was a terrible idea, but Darkwing was charging along with it and had never been more grateful for that one semester of improv he had taken. Also, the advanced voice class for learning how to throw his voice.

_Ha, my half a degree in theatre does have a practical application in real life. Take that, Dad!_

“You see, Bradford, it doesn’t matter if I surrender or not, for you have already lost. And you lost a long time ago. In fact, you lost the very moment you allowed Agent Dee here to step foot in Duckburg,” Darkwing said. “You think that you’ve done such a good job, covering your tracks, that you were so careful. That you can outsmart anyone and everyone. That you’re in control of this long game. But you’re not smarter and will never be smarter than Scrooge McDuck—and he’s been playing you like a fiddle for some time now.

“Didn’t you wonder, Bradford, about how easy it was for Agent Dee to infiltrate Gyro Gearloose’s lab? The lab that is located within McDuck’s Money Bin—his personal stronghold and center of operations? You didn’t think that McDuck wouldn’t thoroughly investigate the woman who placed the winning bid for a date with Gizmoduck, the hero of Duckburg that is in the employ of Scrooge McDuck? Well, he did, and finding Agent Dee’s connections to F.O.W.L were all too easy, as was routing the money Dee spent at the auction back to F.O.W.L. Even after all your efforts to make sure that you and Dee were never seen together that night, we found all the links we needed to connect you two.

“Honestly, if you were half as smart as you think you are, you should have wondered at how easily Agent Dee went from being the lucky woman on a date with Gizmoduck to being the even luckier young scientist who was offered an internship at McDuck Enterprises, in the very lab of McDuck’s most trusted inventor and researcher, the man behind Gizmoduck himself, Gyro Gearloose. We knew she would jump at the opportunity, to further ingratiate herself with McDuck Enterprises and what else would come out of Gearloose’s lab and closer to the Gizmoduck armor. And you, foolishly, let her take it.

“Everything that Agent Dee has reported back to you has been deliberately planted information. Just enough nibbles to keep her in the lab, where she can be watched and monitored for interactions with you and your associates—all so that we could con _you_ and set up F.O.W.L to fail and fall once and for all. In fact, we have to thank you as well, Black Heron, for setting up this capture of Gizmoduck. We had been hoping that Agent Dee would give up the location of F.O.W.L lairs, and if you hadn’t kidnapped Gizmoduck, thwarting her own supposed ‘mission’, we never would have had an opportunity to follow her out here.

“So you can keep us here, if you really want. But you lose, either way, because Scrooge McDuck knows exactly where you are. If you keep us here, you’re just inviting McDuck to come and destroy everything you have built. And, let me fill you in on a little secret. This little rescue mission of ours? We’re not even the best of what McDuck has in his arsenal, and you know it. On the other hand, if you let us go, we’ll kindly give you a head-start to regroup and recover your losses.”

Darkwing smirked, not sure where the camera was that Bradford was watching from, but he knew that the old buzzard was watching intently, fuming.

“And, this time?” Darkwing said, putting his hands on his hips. “Make it more of a challenge.”

There was silence for a long stretch of time.

“Stand down.” Bradford growled into the loudspeaker.

“What?” Black Heron exclaimed, echoing and amplified by the loudspeaker as well.

“Uh uh,” Steelbeak said, stepping forward, pushing back his sleeves. “No way are we gonna let these punks—”

“I said, stand down!” Bradford yelled. “Let them go. Get off my island, Darkwing Duck.”

“Gladly,” Darkwing said, taking an elaborate bow. “And I hope you don’t mind us taking Agent Dee along with us. For a little bit of insurance.”

“What?” Gandra yelped, very convincingly. “Director, you can’t—”

“Take her and go,” Bradford said. “Gandra Dee, as far as any of us are concerned, you are no longer part of F.O.W.L. Consider yourself terminated.”

Gandra let out a cry as Rosa yanked her towards the Thunderquack, gun still remained pressed to the side of her head.

“Move!” Rosa ordered gruffly, forcing Gandra to walk.

Darwking followed, walking backwards, his gas gun still out and drawn, pausing only briefly to bend down to allow Lil Bulb to hop into his free hand.

He didn’t turn his back on F.O.W.L until the ramp to the Thunderquack was up. The bright lights were shut off and Launchpad took to the air.

And, collectively, everyone let out a sigh of relief.

They were headed home.

*****

From where she sat on the floor of the Thunderquack on her knees, Gandra could feel the rumble of the engine. She was glad that there wasn’t much room to move about what passed as the Thunderquack’s cabin, and that Storkules and the Gizmoduck armor took up most of it. Gandra didn’t trust that she could stand, her entire body was still shaking.

Rosa slumped onto the floor beside her, gun re-holstered on her hip.

“You did well,” Rosa informed her. “You were very convincing.”

Gandra let out a small, tired scoff of a laugh, smiling despite herself. She uncurled her fingers from the fist she had made, the light in the cabin glinting off the two gold rings in her palm. Rosa had shoved them into her hand only seconds before she had pressed the gun to the younger woman’s head, the only signal she would get to play along with whatever happened next. Gandra handed the rings back to Rosa.

“Yeah, well, it’s easy to play the scared victim when you have a loaded gun pressed to your head.” Gandra said.

Rosa looked at her blankly for a moment, then reached into her pocket, grabbing Gandra’s arm with her other hand, turning it palm up.

Gandra’s eyes widened as she stared at the cold metal bullets that Rosa put in her hand. When she looked up, she saw Rosa once again pull out her gun, making an obvious show of sliding the top of the pistol back so that Gandra could see into the chamber.

There was nothing there.

“The gun wasn’t loaded,” Gandra whispered, stunned.

“Nope.” Rosa said, smiling slightly. She gently reached up and pushed some of Gandra’s hair from her face, cupping Gandra's cheek in her palm as she said, “I’d never endanger my future-daughter-in-law—and future provider of grandchildren—like that.”

Gandra wasn’t a touchy-feely person, per se.

But that didn’t stop her from throwing her arms around Rosa Cabrera in a tight hug.

A hug that was returned with an equal amount of force and affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I feel like it goes without saying, but just in case, don't ever, ever, ever pull a stunt like Rosa's. Assume a gun is loaded at all times and don't ever point it at another person. Rosa can only get away with this one because she is a fictional character in a work of fiction. This has been your friendly Author's Note PSA on gun safety.


	5. Chapter 5

Rosa knelt on the floor of the Thunderquack, watching as Elise and Gandra finished what Black Heron had started, gently peeling and prying Fenton out of the Gizmoduck armor. The moment he was out of the suit, the scent of burnt feathers, flesh, and fabric was more prominent in the air.

Rosa swallowed back bile as Elise swore, loudly and colorfully, as she quickly found the source. The back of Fenton’s shirt was charred, but also seemed to have some staining along the back from something else entirely that had turned the yellow fabric a sickly shade of green.

“They shocked him from inside the suit?” Rosa asked in dismay, unsure how she got the words out, as she watched Elise take a pair of scissors to remove Fenton’s shirt as Storkules kept the unconscious Fenton upright while Elise worked. “We thought they did something to the suit itself.”

“Black Heron stole my nanites and managed to get them into the armor,” Gandra explained, grimacing. “The nanites are powered by their host’s bioelectricity and Black Heron used that to shock him.”

Elise cursed again as she found places where the burnt fabric of the shirt stuck to Fenton’s blackened feathers. She placed her fingers at the side of Fenton’s neck for a moment, then did the same at his wrist. Then she whipped her head around, looking at Gandra, and demanded,

“Can Black Heron still control the nanites?”

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Gandra admitted. “I have the remote for them that she was using before, but I don’t know if she programmed more than one.”

“And how do we get rid of them? I’m not talking deactivating them, but getting rid of them entirely.”

“I don’t have a safe way to do it,” Gandra said. “When we get back to the Bin, Gyro and I—”

“What’s the unsafe way?” Elise asked, cutting her off sharply.

Gandra hesitated, then said, “The last—and only—time I’ve had to destroy nanites that were in a host other than myself, it involved using more bioelectricity—in that case, my own from the nanites in my hands. The nanites adapt quickly to their host’s bioelectricity patterns, and if they were to get overloaded too fast, to have more bioelectricity than what their host is currently producing and what they have built up, it would cause them to self-destruct.”

“That other person still alive?” Elise asked bluntly.

“It was Mark Beaks, so, unfortunately yes.”

Elise closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then snapped her eyes open before ordering, “Do it.”

“What?” Gandra asked, her eyes wide.

“Do it,” Elise repeated. “Use your bioelectricity to destroy the nanites.”

Rosa watched as Gandra’s fingers curled into fists.

“No,” She said, shaking her head.

Rosa spoke up then. “Elise, if she thinks she and Gearloose can—”

“No,” Elise said sharply before continuing in a much evener tone, “No. We don’t know if F.O.W.L still can control the nanites, and they might do it at any second if they can. The first step of treating electrical injury victims is to completely remove the source of electricity. The nanites are that source, and the longer we wait to remove them, the greater chances F.O.W.L has to increase the damage and the more difficult it becomes to treat the burns. Not to mention, I’d really rather not get shocked myself while I’m treating Fenton. But right now, he’s stable, he’s unconscious, he’s not going to feel it, and I’m right here.” Elise took another deep breath and said, “Look, I know it sounds counterintuitive, but it’s going to help Fenton in the long run. Just do it, and get it over with.”

Gandra still hesitated, and Rosa reached out, putting her hand on Gandra’s knee, looking her in the eye. Rosa’s heart broke at what she saw. From the moment she met her, Gandra had always been a strong, confident, intensely smart and capable young woman. But the last several hours had been intense; she was tired and worn down. She had been scared—for herself and for the people she cared for—and she had willingly returned to a place she had been so desperate to leave, to people she was trying to separate from. That had to be a large blow for the mental and emotional health. And now she was being asked—no, ordered—to do something she didn’t want to do, to hurt the one person she didn’t want to hurt.

But there was one thing that Rosa was sure about. The night had not broken Gandra Dee. No, it had freed her, made her stronger. She had survived, and would thrive. But she, too, would need to heal.

“We have two options,” Rosa said softly. “Either Black Heron shocks him, cruelly and mercilessly, without any warning, without caring if he feels anything or not. Or you do it now, where it’s controlled and done with much kinder hands that actually want to see Fenton healed, while he currently can’t feel any pain.”

Slowly, Gandra took off her gloves, placing her bare hands on Fenton’s back, between his shoulder blades. She closed her eyes as her hands began to glow, the light muted from where they were pressed against Fenton. Carefully, moving neither too fast nor too slow, only moving carefully, Gandra dragged her hands down his spine until she reached his tailfeathers. Rosa grit her teeth, watching Fenton’s fingers curl slightly, his foot twitch, but his eyes remained closed. Rosa silently pleaded for him to not make a sound—Gandra had closed her eyes for a reason, but she couldn’t close her ears—as she looked over at Elise, who was watching Fenton intently, her own face grim but she didn’t tell Gandra to stop. Holding on tightly to Fenton, Storkules’ face was grim but he said nothing. Bless that himbo, who was finally starting to figure out when to keep his mouth shut.

When Gandra opened her eyes after pulling back her hands, there was an intensity there that burned brighter than a thousand suns.

“Never again,” Gandra declared as she yanked her gloves back on. “Never, ever, again.”

Elise simply nodded and got to work.

Rosa squeezed Gandra’s knee again. Gandra sat still for a moment, looking up briefly to meet Rosa’s eyes, then she crawled around to Storkules’ side, grabbing Fenton’s hand.

Rosa didn’t need clarification on what Gandra meant when she said “Never again”. She could see it in the young woman’s eyes.

Gandra Dee was free from F.O.W.L, and she would never have to hurt anyone again.

*****

Donald sighed in relief as he pulled back into port. They had made it there and back in one piece. He could see Storkules, Daisy, and Captain Sabrewing waiting for them, the former two waving.

“How did it go?” Daisy asked as Donald hopped off the boat, tying the boat to the dock.

“Horrible,” Penumbra complained as she started to unload the boat of the weaponry. “We didn’t get shot at once, or followed, or anything! We didn’t get any action.”

“Maybe next time,” Donald told her.

Penumbra grumbled under her breath about stupid Earth villains who don’t know the mighty power of the moon.

“How’s Fenton?” Donald asked.

“He was in pretty rough shape when he got back to the Bin,” Daisy answered.

“However, that Dr. Schwanz did not feel the need to bypass the infirmary in the Money Bin entirely for the hospital indicates that she did not determine that Fenton is in any great distress,” Captain Sabrewing said, his face and voice as deadpan as ever, but Donald found that reassuring. “She has indicated that, while his recovery may take some time, it is currently very promising that he will recover completely with as few complications as possible.”

Donald felt a tension leave his entire body, only to jump in surprise as Penumbra thumped a box onto the dock behind him, still grumbling obscenities about F.O.W.L being cowards for not engaging her in battle.

Captain Sabrewing clapped a hand on Donald’s shoulder and said, “Penumbra and I shall finish up here. You three head home and get some rest. You have all most definitely earned it.”

Donald nodded, then let out a small ‘oof’ as Daisy threw her arms around him tight.

“I’m glad that you got home safely,” Daisy said, pressing a kiss to the side of Donald’s face, making him grateful that it was still well before dawn and the docks weren’t well lit, for he knew he was blushing hard. He let out a small, nervous chuckle and started to lean towards her to return the kiss, but was cut off when he and Daisy were both suddenly swooped into large, strong arms.

“As am I!” Storkules declared. “For now I can take the two dearest companions of my heart on a date!”

“Uh, Storkules?” Donald said, trying to fight his way out of the god’s grasp. “That’s not how that—”

But Daisy cut him off, saying, “Shh. We’ll let him have this one.” She gave Donald a smile, a bit tired and sad but hopeful nonetheless, and said, “It’s been a very long night. Let’s end it on a good note.”

Donald relaxed in Storkules’ arms and smiled. He wasn’t sure what he’d do without these two in his lives.

“Alright,” He said. “Whatcha got for us, pal?”

“I am so glad that you asked, Friend Donald!” Storkules said as he carried Donald and Daisy off to the car. “Let the Date Night commence!”

*****

“—and then I walk in to find him in the bathtub—fully clothed—water running everywhere—covered in scratches—and he’s so proud to show me the puppy he rescued… Let me tell you, you should have seen his face when I informed him that his ‘puppy’ was actually a raccoon!”

Fenton blinked his eyes open slowly as he heard two female voices laugh somewhere beyond him. He was stiff and sore, muscles aching, head throbbing. The Gizmoduck armor was no longer assembled around his body. Instead, warm blankets surrounded him, and he was wearing something soft and unfamiliar. He was lying down, flat on his back, on something soft and much more welcoming than Black Heron’s bare lab table, but the fact that there was a mattress didn’t matter too much. His back _hurt_. It was most definitely the worst pain he had ever been in, ever. In fact, it made the previous worst-pain-ever on his very long list of injuries feel like a bruise. This pain was worse than a thousand paper cuts with lemon juice dumped on them, stinging and throbbing and feeling like he was being scraped with sharp knives while simultaneously poked with a thousand needles.

Speaking of needles, he could tell from previous experience—more than he would like to admit—that there was an IV in the back of his left hand, confirmed as he could make out the subtle _drip-drip-drip_ of fluids. Even the small sound added to the throbbing in his head. There was also something pinching his right index finger, not painfully but most definitely noticeably, and there was something fairly tight on his left bicep. He could feel something on his chest, slightly itchy; tape of some sort, maybe?

But where was he? The last thing he remembered was being on the floor of the Thunderquack. He had heard familiar voices, but was unable to make out what they were saying before he passed out again. How long had he been out? And who was with him now? The voice he had woken up hearing sounded a lot like his mother. And he recognized the other laugh as Gandra. But that was crazy, wasn’t it?

Fenton glanced around to examine his surroundings. Location—Infirmary at the Money Bin. Check. Time—around dawn, by the digital clock on the wall displaying a bright red 05:47, running on military time. Check. Other people in the room…

He blinked again as he saw Rosa and Gandra, seated in two chairs at the foot of the bed, both of them smiling and chuckling over an embarrassing story from Fenton’s youth.

Well. That definitely couldn’t be right.

Right?

Rosa and Gandra never smiled around each other, let alone laughed. His mother reserved Fenton’s embarrassing childhood mishap stories for people she liked. Gandra wouldn’t willingly get that close to Rosa.

_Nope, nope, this isn’t happening. You’re still dreaming, Fenton. Dios mios, how much damage is there that Elise got out the really hard drugs and they still don’t work?_

He hadn’t realized he had said this thought out loud until both Rosa and Gandra whipped their heads towards him, their eyes wide with surprise and relief.

“Pollito!” Rosa exclaimed as she rushed to his side, taking his hand and kissing his forehead. “Fenton, ¿como te sientes?”

“No es bueno, M’ma,” Fenton responded in a groan, closing his eyes again. “My back and head hurt, so the pain meds have definitely worn off.”

“Actually, you’re not on any pain meds, so that’s why they’re not working,” Gandra informed him.

“Then I’ve got a really bad head injury,” Fenton said, opening his eyes again. “Because you two were getting along.”

“Yeah, we do that now,” Gandra said, smirking slightly, her arms folded over her chest. Rosa also nodded, looking pleased.

Fenton blinked. His hearing must be damaged, too, because there was no way he heard Gandra right.

“Buh?” He got out, still confused.

Rosa chuckled then dropped another kiss to his forehead. “Well, since a concussion is still an option on the table, I’m going to go find Elise. Gandra, I trust you can keep him awake.”

“Oh, I think we’ve scared him bad enough he’s not going back to sleep any time soon,” Gandra said, her smirk growing.

Rosa snorted a laugh and, with a wave, she walked out of the infirmary.

Fenton looked at Gandra, almost expectantly. She smiled and asked, “Are you thirsty?”

Fenton took a moment to think about that—probably longer than he needed to, because, yes, his mouth and throat were so dry, why hadn’t he asked for something to drink sooner?—and nodded. Gandra went to a pitcher of water and filled up a cup, then came back to his side, sitting on the bed beside him. Carefully, she slid a hand behind his head, lifting him up slightly so that he could drink.

Water had never tasted so good, and he couldn’t get enough of it in his mouth, grunting slightly in frustration when Gandra pulled the cup back saying, “Hey, hey, slow down, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick. Small sips, got it?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond in any way, but he must have either looked pathetic enough or compliant enough that she helped him drink some more. When the cup was empty, Gandra gently lowered Fenton’s head back to the pillow and slid her hand out from beneath him, setting the cup aside. She gently caressed his cheek, brushing over the feathers there with her thumb, and gave him a small smile as she whispered, “You had us really scared for a while there, Suit.”

“Sorry,” Fenton mumbled, leaning into her hand.

“Do you remember anything?” Gandra asked. “From being rescued?”

“Not really?” Fenton admitted. “I vaguely recall Storkules and Darkwing getting me out of the lab. And were we in the Thunderquack? Because I thought I heard your voice at one point, and M’ma, and Elise, and—wait, never mind that. You. And my mom?”

“Yeah,” Gandra said, resting her hand on his torso. “We realized that we have our differences, but we shared one important thing in common.”

“Which is?”

Gandra smiled and gently booped his beak with her finger. “You, Fenton. We both care about you very much. And that our fighting wasn’t good for us. Especially since it was starting to get in the way of actually rescuing you. But it also wasn’t fair to you, because we realized we were both trying to force you to choose between us. And I’m sorry for doing that.”

“It’s okay,” Fenton said, laying his hand over hers where it rested on his stomach. “I know neither of you were doing it intentionally.”

“Still, it was kind of a jerk thing to do,” Gandra said. “But we’re in a good place now, and I think it’s only going to get better from here.” Gandra chuckled. “I’ve been upgraded to ‘future provider of grandchildren’, if nothing else.”

Fenton groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“So you don’t want to be the future father of my children?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait, no, I mean—Stop laughing at me!”

“You make it so easy, though,” Gandra chuckled, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then brushing his hair back. “I’m sorry. For everything that happened, and that you got captured by F.O.W.L basically because of me.”

“Don’t,” Fenton told her, squeezing her hand. “You don’t have to apologize. That was all Black Heron, and Steelbeak, and Femme Fatale. Not you. You’re not responsible for what F.O.W.L does. You’re only responsible for your own actions.”

Gandra nodded, her face suddenly grim. “In more ways than one. I, well, I got fired.”

Fenton blinked. “From F.O.W.L? I thought Mrs. Beakley said that wasn’t how F.O.W.L worked.”

“It’s a long story, and we’re still waiting for Mr. McDuck and Mrs. Beakley to get back so we can tell them what happened and make our next plan,” Gandra explained, fussing with the blanket tucked up around him, clearly needing to fidget, to do something with her hands. “But they won’t be back for another couple of hours, so in the meantime we’ll focus on taking care of you.”

Fenton frowned lightly. “How badly am I injured?”

“That is to be determined.”

Fenton and Gandra turned their heads to see Elise stride in, followed by Rosa, Drake, Launchpad, and Gyro.

“Nice to see you fully conscious again,” Drake commented.

“Yeah, you really had us worried there for a while, Fenton,” Launchpad added, his arm slung casually around Drake’s shoulders.

“Though the quiet around here was nice while it lasted,” Gyro said with a dramatic sigh.

“Hey, guys,” Fenton said, managing a small wave. “Thanks for coming to rescue me, by the way.”

“No problem, pal,” Drake said, grinning. “Anytime. Just, you know, not again anytime in the near future, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, but make no promises,” Fenton said.

Elise made a shooing motion at Gandra, who stood up and moved around to the other side of the bed. Elise pulled out a penlight and held up a finger.

“Concussion check,” She said simply. “Keep your eyes on my finger and blink normally.”

Fenton did so, wincing slightly at the light in his eye when it was shined into his eyes.

“Pupils are same size and dilating evenly,” Elise said with a nod when she lowered both her hands, replacing her penlight into the pocket of her coat. “Your mom told me you said your head hurts. Do you feel lightheaded, or nauseous? How about your vision? Any blurriness or seeing double?”

“Head hurts, yes, but none of the rest.” Fenton told her.

Elise nodded and turned her attention to the monitor Fenton was just now noticing beside the bed and he was apparently hooked up to. She pulled out a folder from behind the monitor, and opened it to start taking notes. “Then the headache is more likely to be from the combination of dehydration and exposure to prolonged electrical shocks.”

“Oh, yeah,” Fenton said, suddenly remembering. “Gandra, Black Heron was using—”

“My nanites, we know,” Gandra said, her beak twisting in a grimace. “Don’t worry, we already took care of them.”

Fenton felt like he should ask more details regarding that statement. He chose instead to try again at getting an answer to his original question.

“Seriously, how badly am I injured?” He asked, glancing around the room, hoping for some sort of sign in someone’s—anyone’s—face.

“You came out of this better than the Gizmoduck armor, but not by much,” Gyro answered, folding his arms over his chest.

“Gyro, was that, was that supposed to be encouraging?” Drake asked, staring at the scientist in disbelief. “Because that was not how it came out.”

“Good, because it wasn’t,” Gyro responded with a small shrug. “It’s a simple fact. Frankly, the armor will be fully operational faster than he will be.”

“You really do not know how to read a room, do you, Gearloose?” Rosa said, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Quite frankly, Detective, I have better things to occupy my time and mental energy,” Gyro said.

Elise huffed and grumbled something under her breath about the peanut gallery that was not particularly complimentary, before snapping her folder shut and tucking it under her arm, turning to Fenton.

“You’ve got electrical burns on your back, mostly along your spinal column. The good news is that, for the most part, your feathers protected your skin and the dermal-level damage is minimal. I did have to remove some feathers that were damaged, but the greater concern at this point isn’t the burns. It’s your heart, kidneys, brain, and nervous system that I’m more worried about.”

“Ah,” Fenton responded simply, nodding his head some. “Yes, I can see why. Considering that’s a pretty important list of things that keep me, well, alive.”

This response seemed to amuse Elise, for he caught the smallest of smiles from her before she returned to her usual no-nonsense seriousness when it came to treating her patients. “Fortunately, right now we’re in a bit of a holding pattern of monitoring. I’ve got you on a portable electrocardiogram monitor that I want you to wear for a few days, and I’m in the process of pulling some strings to get you a MRI with as few questions asked as possible. For now, everything is promising. Your blood pressure and blood oxygen levels are good, your heartrate is steady, you haven’t had a seizure that we know of, and you’re not disoriented. I do, however, need to check your limbs for swelling and reactions to stimuli. I didn’t want to give you anything for pain until after I could do that check, so as to not dull your response.” Elise arched an eyebrow. “Ready for me to change that?”

“Please,” Fenton said, barely biting back a sigh of relief.

Elise nodded and looked over her shoulder. “Hey, if you three idiots are going to hang around, I’m putting you to work. One of you grab the kit that’s in the third cabinet on the right, second shelf, far left.”

“On it,” Launchpad said as Gyro made an indignant noise at being called—for the first time in his life—an idiot, a reaction that both Rosa and Gandra snorted at.

“She means it affectionately,” Drake informed the disgruntled scientist.

“Yeah! Elise calls us her idiots all the time!” Launchpad called cheerfully from the supply cabinets.

Drake nodded. “Trust us, it’s her favorite term of endearment.”

“Sure,” Elise said, drawing out the word as she winked at Fenton in a conspiratorial way as she moved to the end of the bed, pulling back the blankets to expose his feet. “So, do you feel numb anywhere? Or have had difficulty moving your limbs?”

“I haven’t tried to move too much,” Fenton admitted. “My joints feel a bit stiff when I move my arms and fingers, and those movements were all pretty small.”

Elise nodded, poking about his ankles. “That’s fine. Joint and muscle pain are to be expected. No swelling, but we’ll keep watching to see if any fluid builds up, because that’s an indicator of how your kidneys are doing. Can you feel my fingers?”

“I can,” Fenton told her as Launchpad brought over the box that Elise had requested.

“Good,” Elise said, nodding slightly as she set the box on the bed beside her. Fenton couldn’t see what she was doing with the blankets bunched the way they were and how he was lying on the bed. “Now, I’m going to poke your feet and hands.” She glanced up at him and said, “I’m not going to warn you when I do it, and I don’t want you to watch, okay?”

“That makes sense,” Fenton said, closing his eyes. “You don’t want to skew the dat-AAAH!”

Fenton’s eyes flew open and he jerked back, pulling both of his feet back some, giving Elise a wide-eyed stare. His cheeks heated as he heard Drake laugh, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that Gandra was trying to hide her own laughter and even Launchpad was chuckling. His mother was just shaking her head and rolling her eyes with a small smile. Gyro just groaned and rubbed the space between his eyes and muttered something about the real idiots in the room.

“What was that?” Fenton demanded of Elise.

“I told you,” Elise said, an amused smile on her face. “I was going to poke your foot. And without warning.”

“You didn’t say you were going to poke my feet _with a needle_!” Fenton exclaimed. “That hurt!”

“Well, Fenton,” Elise said, sitting back slightly. “Unfortunately, even with that wonderful display of reaction—showing that you do have capability of moving all your limbs—I still have to actually check your other limbs. Just to be thorough.”

Fenton scowled as he stretched his legs out again, slumping into the mattress, grumbling, “I just knew you were going to say that…”

*****

Rosa walked into the infirmary, yawning and glad for the cup of coffee in her hands. She smiled as she saw Fenton and Gandra. The latter was asleep in her chair, knees curled up to her chest, shoes off, hoodie on. Gandra had moved the chair as close to the bed as possible, and was holding Fenton’s hand.

Fenton himself was curled up on his side, the gap in the hospital gown he wore exposing the large white bandage that was taped along his spine, though that was largely covered by the blanket draped over him. The change in position took pressure off his injuries, which seemed to have helped him as much as the dose of morphine Elise had given him, sending him back to sleep. He needed it.

Rosa walked over and gently ruffled her son’s hair, listening as he took deep, slumbering breaths. Then, not for the first time, she glanced over at the heart monitor, watching the rise and fall of the green line.

Rosa took her seat again, just sitting and watching the two sleep. They’d earned it, most definitely. And though it wasn’t necessary, though they were safe and sound in the Money Bin, though she knew that Drake and Launchpad and Gyro and Gyro’s army of wildly misunderstood inventions and—the most terrifying of all—Elise Schwanz weren’t far, Rosa sat as if she was guarding them.

Rosa had come close to losing them both last night—was it late yesterday or early this morning? Time had no meaning anymore and she wasn’t even sure what day it was, or if it mattered. The point was, she had not going to come this close to losing them again.

Rosa sipped her coffee and took a long, deep breath, wrapping her head around it all. Letting herself decompress, her nerves to settle, her brain to switch off from ‘high alert’ mode.

They were all safe. Gandra was officially no longer a F.O.W.L agent. And Fenton would recover.

Rosa turned her head towards the door when she heard it open and saw Launchpad stick his head inside. She pressed a finger to her beak, then pointed to Fenton and Gandra. Launchpad nodded, but beckoned her to step outside, into the make-shift waiting area that separated the elevator from the infirmary proper. Rosa got to her feet and stepped out, seeing that the waiting area had many more occupants than when she had passed through only moments before.

Scrooge McDuck looked furious as he stepped out of the elevator. “What the blazes happened?” He demanded.

“Did F.O.W.L really kidnap Gizmoduck?” Gosalyn asked, looking at her dad questioningly.

“Do we have identities for the agents responsible?” Mrs. Beakley asked grimly, her face all business.

“Was it Black Heron?” Webby asked.

“Is Fenton okay?” Huey asked, concern heavy in his voice, this question aimed at Elise. “Can we see him?”

“What about Gandra?” Lena asked worriedly, looking around. “Did she make it back?”

“Did F.O.W.L discover her subterfuge?” Violet asked. “Is Gandra in danger?”

“I can’t believe we missed a chance to be part of an epic rescue mission from an evil spy island!” Dewey groaned. “Just something I’ve dreamed of doing _my whole life_!”

“Dewey, you would have been the first to blow our cover and jeopardize the whole mission,” Louie told him, the youngest triplet looking the most exhausted out of all the kids. However, he still looked more awake and refreshed than his mother. Understandable, given that she had been flying for nearly a full day.

Della stumbled forward with bleary eyes, wading through the group of kids and giving Drake a shove to get past him. She made her way over to the coffee pot, grabbed the pot off the warmer, and went back over to join the others, pouring the coffee down her throat, some dribbling down her shirt. She finished it off, wiped her beak on her sleeve, then—in a blink—seemed much more her usual self, eyes bright. No, she was twice as much her usual self, practically vibrating from the amount of caffeine she had just consumed. A caffeinated Della Duck was truly a terrifying sight to behold.

“Alright, I’m ready to punch some bad guys!” She declared loudly, looking about the room, her fists up—one still clenched around the handle of the coffee pot—and started bouncing on her toes. “Bring ‘em on! Where are they? I’ll show those big palookas! Fight me, F.O.W.L!”

“Okay, okay, keep it down, guys,” Drake said, holding his hands out, making lowering motions. He looked as exhausted as Della had moments before; however, despite having consumed as much—if not twice as much—coffee as Della had, he still looked like a sleep-deprived zombie. “This is technically a hospital.”

“Fenton and Gandra are both here, they’re both okay, and—possibly—both still asleep,” Rosa said as she came to stand with the group.

Lena and Violet both looked relieved, but Huey still looked concerned. It warmed Rosa’s heart to know that the young boy idolized her son, and knew how close the two were. She made a mental note to suggest that Huey make a few visits once Fenton was home, if for no other reason than she knew her son well enough to know that he was going to struggle with Elise’s bedrest order. The young Junior Woodchuck would serve as a great distraction, and Rosa knew the kid well enough to know that he was a Type-A Rule Follower that wouldn’t let Elise’s rules for recovery to be bent in the slightest.

Hmm. Now, she wasn’t sure if she was making arrangements for a play-date or a baby-sitter, but either way she didn’t think she’d have to do that anymore, given that her son was in his twenties. But, then again, there were a lot of things she never thought she’d have to do for and because of her son.

Drake nodded, and started to herd everyone back towards the elevator. “Come on, Gyro, Donald, Daisy, Storkules, and Captain Sabrewing are waiting in the board room for us. Kevin’s there, too, and said he’d take the kids home.”

“Aw, we don’t even get to be part of the debriefing?” Dewey groaned. “Man, this is so not fair!”

“Life’s not fair, move it,” Drake said, reaching down to push Dewey towards the elevator, the young duck pouting with his arms folded over his chest and his heels dug into to the floor so that he was being slid across the floor.

Rosa turned to see Elise beside her, a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll sit with Fenton while you and Gandra debrief Mr. McDuck and Mrs. Beakley.”

“Thank you,” Rosa said. “Let me go get Gandra.” Over her shoulder, she called, “We’ll meet you up there!” This earned her a thumbs-up from Drake before the elevator doors closed.

The last thing Rosa and Elise expected when they reentered the infirmary was to see a pair of glowing pale blue eyes shining in the dark. Even knowing it was only Gandra, and her eyebots, it was still somewhat disturbing to see as it gave her an ethereal, almost ghost-like look.

“Gandra?” Rosa called softly.

“Yeah?” Gandra responded, the eyes blinking.

“McDuck’s here.” Rosa said.

The glow disappeared as Gandra shut off her eyebots and she reached down to slip her shoes back on, yawning as she did so. She rose to her feet, paused to give Fenton a kiss on the head, then followed Rosa out of the room.

They waited in silence in front of the elevator, but as soon as the doors were closed behind them, Rosa asked, “What were you doing with your eyebots?” Not accusingly, just curious.

“Synched them up to Fenton’s monitors,” Gandra explained. She hesitated, then slipped off one of her gloves, holding out her hand, palm up. “Feel this.”

Rosa arched a brow, then placed her fingers in Gandra’s palm. She could feel… something. Not quite the sparks she was expecting. But there was something there, pulsing.

Pulse…

“Is that Fenton’s heartbeat?” Rosa asked, surprised as she lifted her fingers.

Gandra nodded, her cheeks flushed as she slipped the glove back on. “Yeah. I just… okay, it sounds corny and cheesy and whatever, but it’s comforting, okay?”

An easy grin slid over Rosa’s face and she chuckled. “Gandra Dee is a big romantic softie.”

“Am not,” Gandra argued sharply. “I’m just, you know, making sure that the idiot is still alive, that’s all.”

“Umm hmm,” Rosa said, sipping her coffee. “And it has nothing to do with how you secretly really love to cuddle?”

“Oh my God,” Gandra groaned. “Did Fenton tell you that?”

“Nope.”

“It was Raymond, wasn’t it? After they walked in on us that night we thought they’d all be out late? No, it had to be Kevin. Or Lena. Violet’s the only one capable of keeping a secret in that house, I swear.”

“Wasn’t any of them,” Rosa said in a slightly sing-song voice.

“Then who?” Gandra demanded, angry.

Rosa smirked at her. “You did. Just now.”

The look of outrage on Gandra’s face was wonderful. “I can’t believe this,” She groaned. “I did not just fall for that…”

“Hey, you’re tired, and I have an excellent track record of getting confessions out of people,” Rosa said with a shrug. “You never stood a chance, Dee.”

“Don’t tell?” Gandra asked. “I’ve got a reputation as a punk rock bad girl of science to uphold, you know?”

The elevator doors dinged open and Rosa said, “Your secret is safe with me. Better than it ever will be with Fenton and the Sabrewings, at least.”

Rosa gave Gandra a wink, and a smile spread across the younger woman’s face.

Yes, slowly, somehow, everything was going to be okay.

*****

Predictably, Scrooge McDuck did not take the news well. Gandra half-expected him to leap onto the table and hop up and down on it in his anger, and was somewhat disappointed when he didn’t.

“THAT DIRTY ROTTEN NO GOOD SLEEZY SACK OF SLIMY SUBTERFUGE IN A SUBMARINE!” Scrooge roared as he pounded his fists on the board room table, his eyes blazing with fury.

Donald, perhaps the one most used to his uncle’s displays of temper, merely arched an eyebrow. “A submarine?”

“Do not be questionin’ my alliterations, nephew!” Scrooge snapped. “Bradford Buzzard! This whole time! My whole board of directors, full of yellow-bellied, two-faced scoundrels! Oh, they are going to pay for this, mark my words!”

“Miss Dee, were you aware of the Buzzards’ connection to McDuck Enterprises?” Mrs. Beakley asked, her eyes hard as she looked over at Gandra.

“No,” Gandra said, shaking her head. “Only the highest-level agents at F.O.W.L would have known. When agents go that deep undercover in the civilian world, the rest of the agency only knows the vaguest of details. I knew that the Buzzards worked in finance at a company in Duckburg. I had no idea it was McDuck Enterprises. In hindsight, though, this explains why they were initially hesitant to approve my mission when I told them I wanted to go to a bachelor auction being hosted, in part, by McDuck Enterprises. I just thought they were hesitant to send me into McDuck’s territory.”

Scrooge huffed and hit his fists on the table one last time before sinking into his chair, seething. “Good call on making Bradford think we’ve had his number all this time, Drake. With any luck, it’ll made F.O.W.L show whatever cards they may hold.”

“But where do we go from here?” Drake asked. “Do we make the first move, or wait for F.O.W.L to do so?

“It appears that you managed to, in a single spontaneous move, completely disrupt their entire operation,” Mrs. Beakley said. “This is a massive blow for them. Not only do they know that their cover is blown—and, supposedly, for much longer than it truly has been—but they willingly surrendered one of their own agents. Anything that Gandra might have had access to, any plans she may have known of, any projects she worked on, that all has to be obliterated. Not to mention, any and all bases that she knows of will have to be evacuated and destroyed.”

“F.O.W.L has no way of guaranteeing that Gandra would tell you everything she knows, especially if they still believe her to be loyal,” Raymond said. “And if she did reveal F.O.W.L’s secrets, wouldn’t it be more unexpected to push through the original plans with some modifications, such as changing timelines or locations?”

“No, they won’t do that,” Mrs. Beakley argued. “Will someone repeat Bradford’s exact last words to Gandra?”

Gandra herself spoke up, because she was the only other person in the room who knew the significance behind F.O.W.L’s parting words to her. “That as far as anyone was concerned, I was no longer part of F.O.W.L. That I was terminated.”

“Terminated,” Mrs. Beakley repeated with a nod. “Braford used that word particularly. F.O.W.L has used the phrase ‘terminate’ specifically and exclusively when it comes to their process of… handling rogue agents.”

“So, to F.O.W.L, Gandra is as good as dead?” Daisy asked hesitantly, looking over at Gandra.

“Yup,” Gandra said, leaning back in her chair, one knee against the table and her arms over her chest. “You’re looking at a dead woman walking.”

Mrs. Beakley nodded again. “Specifically, in this case, that was Bradford’s indicator to Gandra that no one is going to come to rescue her. She could stay loyal to F.O.W.L, but F.O.W.L no longer is loyal to her. More to the point, they turned their backs on her rather than the other way around. Bradford and the Directors are expecting Gandra to tell us all she knows in exchange for amnesty, or as vengeance for the betrayal. Either way, they will have to discontinue any operations she may have any knowledge about and start from scratch. It’s a rare move for F.O.W.L, and only done when a lower-level agent is captured.”

“Does this mean that Gandra of Dee will continue to be safe from the clutches of F.O.W.L?” Storkules asked. “Even if they were to discover that she has aligned herself with Scrooge McDuck?”

“In my career as a S.H.U.S.H agent, this is the fifth live termination I know of,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Two of those live terminations chose to talk and align themselves with S.H.U.S.H after the fact. One did so out of revenge, and went on to become a top agent, though closely monitored his entire career and undergoing a genuine change of heart. He’s retired now, and has a family. S.H.U.S.H keeps an eye on them to ensure that they are safe, but they have not found any indicators that any of them are on F.O.W.L’s radar. Another joined S.H.U.S.H with the intention of becoming a double-agent and getting back into F.O.W.L’s good graces. Let’s just say, F.O.W.L high command did not agree and terminated him a second time. Permanently.”

The spy-turned-housekeeper turned to Gandra. “You may encounter agents who remember you, and take their aggression out on you. But otherwise, they are to treat you like they would any enemy agent. As if you never existed to F.O.W.L as anything but an enemy agent.”

“So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for F.O.W.L to make the next move and come up with their next evil scheme?” Della demanded. “And be even sneakier about going about it, considering we didn’t even really know that they were right under our noses until today?”

“Not to mention that they have a lot of the pieces of the original Gizmoduck armor,” Gyro spoke up, bitterness in his voice. “There’s no telling how Black Heron and the other F.O.W.L scientists will turn those against us.”

“Can the Gizmoduck armor even be fixed?” Launchpad asked. “Drake said that Fenton told him and Storkules that the suit was dead. So can you make it not-dead?”

“I second that question,” Scrooge spoke up, emerging from his sulk slightly.

Gyro sighed and pushed back his glasses. “The suit is not ‘dead’, technically. It powered down, partially from Black Heron tearing it to pieces and partially from the shocks Fenton received. That was a combination of the actual electrical current and Fenton’s reaction to it.” Gyro was quiet for a moment, then added, “Elise is going to get confirmation once she gets him in an MRI machine, but right now we are operating under the theory that Fenton had a seizure while being shocked. As Fenton’s brain serves at the suit’s processer, a seizure would serve as a way to overload the suit’s system. Essentially, Fenton’s brain shut off the suit unintentionally, and he couldn’t turn it back on after the seizure had passed.”

The silence in the room was crushing as the weight of Gyro’s explanation fell on them, and the extent to which they had been close to losing Fenton pressing in on them.

Gandra curled her fingertips in to her palm, feeling Fenton’s still-steady heartbeat there, pulsating through her nanites, her bioelectricity thumping in time with his heart, though well over a dozen floors separated them. Elise had explained to her and Rosa that there was a strong possibility that Fenton had experienced a seizure, as they were commonly adjacent to electrical injuries. The MRI and her neurological tests would reveal more information. It was likely that, if Fenton had experienced a seizure, it was short and he didn’t even really know what had happened. If they were lucky, it would never happen again. So far, the signs were promising. Still, Gandra’s stomach churned at the thought of everything Fenton had gone through on F.O.W.L’s island of horrors.

Gyro cleared his throat and said, “That being said, it won’t be too difficult to rebuild the armor. The basic framework is there. I’ve already calculated a budget based off what isn’t there that needs to be replaced, and taken into account some changes and additions I would like to make.” Gyro turned to Gandra, adding, “There is also a significant portion I calculated set aside for you and Fenton to both add in your own inputs and designs.”

Gandra nodded, smiling slightly. She knew that Fenton was going to enjoy coming up with, designing, and implementing mods to the Gizmoduck armor—she already knew of some that he had been talking about for a while—but she was also touched that Gyro was offering her the same opportunity. A month ago, Gyro had been wary of her being anywhere near the armor. Hadn’t even really approved of her being in his lab, and definitely suspicious of any of her ideas. But now he was giving her a chance to be involved in making the Gizmoduck armor even better. This was his way of saying “I trust you”.

And, honestly? She didn’t think she would ever want or need that kind of validation from Gearloose. Or anyone, really. But now that she had it… Well, it made her feel good.

Scrooge sighed and pushed himself to his feet, tucking his hands behind his back as he walked around the table.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I don’t care how much it costs you to rebuild that armor, even if it takes the very last dime in my Bin.” He declared. “We are now officially at war with F.O.W.L. They made the first move, but we have the first victory. We don’t know when our next battle will be, but when they strike—and we are going to let them strike first—we will emerge triumphant once again. We are tougher, sharper, smarter than they will ever be. We are also _stronger_ a team than F.O.W.L will ever be. We are going to make them regret crossing us. And we will take down F.O.W.L once and for all. Dismissed.”

Everyone began to disperse, but Gandra stayed in her seat for a moment longer.

She was a dead woman walking, but she was also a free woman. She had been given a curse, but it was the greatest gift she had ever received. She had lost a feeling of belonging, but in its place she had—

“Gandra?”

She turned to see Raymond, who also remained in the room, apparently waiting for her.

“Yeah?” Gandra prompted, getting to her feet. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, I just had something I wished to discuss with you, privately,” Raymond said.

“Okay, well, we’re in private,” Gandra said, gesturing to the large empty room as she walked around the table to him. “Lay it on me.”

Raymond nodded. “As you know, in our original agreement from nearly a month ago regarding your probationary period for leaving F.O.W.L, that involved you living with Kevin and I and our daughters during that time period.”

“Right,” Gandra said, trying hard not to shift on her feet. She should have known this was coming…

“And that, also per that agreement, we would renegotiate at the end of that one month,” Raymond said. “Now that that one month is nearly up and the terms do not matter anymore with you having been terminated from F.O.W.L, we need to discuss the future of your living situation.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Gandra said, her heart sinking. “I’ll… I’ll have my bags packed as soon as possible.”

Raymond’s eyes briefly widened, then he said, “I apologize, for I think you are misunderstanding my intention behind this conversation. Kevin and I spoke on the matter earlier and we found that we were in complete agreement. We would like you to continue living with us.”

Gandra blinked, words momentarily escaping her. “Really? You want me to stay?”

Raymond nodded again. “You are pleasant company. Violet and Lena simply adore you, and you are a good influence on them. We all enjoy having you around, and, yes, we would like you to stay. However, if you would prefer to leave or have other arrangements…”

“No,” Gandra said quickly. “No. I’d… I’d like to stay. With you and Kevin and the girls.”

The last people who had asked her to stay was F.O.W.L. They didn’t call her ‘pleasant company’. She knew so many of them never had and never would ‘adore’ her. Not everyone enjoyed having her around. Any influence she had on another person was deemed bad. Most people she encountered wanted her gone—her teachers, the social workers, foster parents and the group homes, her own mother… Anyone who wanted her to stay was so that they could use her. Foster parents to get the government checks. F.O.W.L wanted her to further their own agenda, to use her brains for their gain.

But the Sabrewings… The Sabrewings wanted her to stay because they _liked_ her.

“I’d like to stay,” Gandra repeated.

A small smile crossed Raymond’s face for the briefest of moments as he clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I am glad to hear it. Now, do you plan to spend the rest of the day here with Mr. Crackshell-Cabrera, or would you like to go home for a little while to refresh?”

Home. Gandra Dee—unwanted foster kid, scientist, problem child, spy—had a _home_. She had people who truly cared for her. People who trusted her. She finally had everything she had hoped to gain with F.O.W.L, and so much more.

Gandra put her fingertips to her palm, feeling Fenton’s heartbeat.

She had someone to love.

Gandra smiled. “Let’s go home.”

*****

Fenton sighed contently as he set his mostly-empty bowl down on the coffee table. He was sitting on the couch, arguably the most comfortable place in his house, and right now it felt like heaven on earth. After finally being released from spending most of the day the infirmary at the Money Bin and two hours at the hospital getting an MRI, he’d been practically ecstatic to finally be home, even though that came with a lengthy list of things that he was Not To Do lest he wished to bring the Wrath of Doctor Elise Schwanz down upon his head. And now he was fed, mostly rehydrated, in his own clothing once again, his latest dose of pain medication had kicked in, and he was very, very comfortable.

He closed his eyes. He could fall asleep, right then and there. In fact, that sounded like a good idea. Best he had had all day. Granted, he hadn’t had many ideas that day. He had slept most of the day. Still, best idea he had had all day.

Fenton heard Gandra chuckle and she shifted carefully on the couch beside him, trying not to disturb him. “You ready for bed, Suit?”

“Sleep, yes. Bed, no,” Fenton answered, not opening his eyes.

“Well, you probably shouldn’t sleep sitting up like that. Your back is already going to be hurting next time you wake up, you shouldn’t add to it.”

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Well, I’ve got an idea. Does involve moving, though, but not by much.”

Fenton opened an eye to look at Gandra, who was standing up from the couch then—to his confusion—sitting at the far end from him.

She smiled at him and patted her hand on her lap. “Come here, lay your head down.”

Fenton smiled and accepted the invitation, shifting slowly until he was on his side, his head in Gandra’s lap. His eyes were already drifting closed again when he felt Gandra’s fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. He let out a small, contented groan.

Correction, _this_ was heaven on earth.

Fenton felt a blanket be draped over him, and heard his mother’s voice ask, “Would we disturb you if we watched something on the television, pollito?”

“Nope,” Fenton mumbled, already mostly asleep. “Go right on ahead.”

“You have something in mind, Rosa?” Gandra asked.

“I do indeed.”

The way his mother responded to Gandra’s question instantly woke Fenton up. Oh no, she wasn’t…

He opened his eyes. Nope, it was too late, she had the box set out and the first disc was in the DVD player. The opening notes of the theme song played on the menu screen and Rosa spun around, grinning as she gestured to the screen, saying,

“Gandra, allow me to introduce you to the best show to ever grace television: _Patos de la Pasion_!”

“M’ma,” Fenton groaned. “Please don’t torture my girlfriend with telenovelas.”

“Torture? What’s this nonsense about torture, pollito?” Rosa said with a snort as she curled up in the armchair. “You’re so overdramatic. No, I’m _indoctrinating_ her.”

“I am so sorry,” Fenton whispered to Gandra, who laughed.

“I’ll try anything once,” Gandra responded. “Bring it on.”

Despite it all, Fenton fell asleep with a smile on his face, his girlfriend’s hand in his hair, and his mother’s favorite telenovela playing in the background.

Yes, he was most definitely home.

*****

Femme Fatale was a patient woman. She had to be, in her line of work. She was a spy. She was the most successful Honey Pot operative F.O.W.L had ever seen. She had the power, the prestige, the know-how. And all of that boiled down to patience. Watching, waiting, to see what kind of woman her mark would fall for. Determining the perfect strategy for breaking them. Having the perfect exit planned, so that they never knew what hit them, even long after it was ‘too late’.

There were some powerful men that still regularly wined and dined her, plying her with jewels and luxury, whom she kissed and teased and slept with and strung along, who had no idea that she had been the source of their ruin.

But because Femme Fatale was a patient woman, because she was so good at what she did, she always—always—got exactly what she wanted.

And so she waited until Bradford and the other Directors had cooled down. She had waited until long after the island had been reduced to rubble, that the island was no longer an island but debris in the bottom of the ocean. She would wait as long as she needed.

The wait was agony, but it gave her all the time she needed to strategize.

Finally, two weeks—two very long weeks—after the disaster that was the result of Black Heron’s foolhardy mission to capture Gizmoduck, Femme Fatale put in her request to see the Directors.

They were still angry, she knew, from being one-upped by Scrooge McDuck and angrier to be in their new, infinitely smaller board room. But when one had to relocate one’s headquarters in a matter of hours, one couldn’t be too choosy about where one landed.

And though she had waited, she knew she was still walking a thin line. Femme Fatale had played her part in their loss. The Directors had not forgotten this. They would _never_ forget this.

But she had no choice.

Femme Fatale had let that gas gun slip out of her fingers over a decade before, and she would not stand to let it be in Darkwing Duck’s do-gooder hands for any longer.

Femme Fatale dressed simply for the meeting, in jeans and a soft-pink cashmere sweater. Her hair was in a long braid down her back, dotted with pink gemstones—real ones this time, not the fakes that doubled as explosives—and small pearl earrings. Sensible flat shoes on her feet and the barest hint of make-up on her face. It was if she was a completely different person than the persona she had carefully groomed and crafted for herself, long before she joined F.O.W.L.

Femme Fatale always knew her mark. She knew exactly what to wear to catch their attention. She knew the Directors would not accept her flashiest, her most expensive outfits, the ones that left very little to the imagination. It wasn’t one of her many disguises and costumes, either. At least, not overtly. She knew that the simplicity would impress the Directors. All part of her plan, of course. They wouldn’t even realize that she was trying to woo them—not with her body, but with her own cunning. Her ambition.

Her promise to raise F.O.W.L from the ashes of disgrace.

Femme Fatale knew that there would be anger and outrage, so she didn’t even flinch when Bradford slammed his fist on the table after she made her request, shouting at her,

“Are you out of your mind? We just learned that all our hard work, all our planning, was for nothing because of Scrooge McDuck was one step ahead of us, and you want to walk directly into his playing field for that weak weapon of Darkwing Duck’s?”

“Sir,” Femme Fatale said patiently. “I think, no, I _know_ I can get it without further compromising F.O.W.L.”

“Can this gas gun even benefit our mission?” Buford asked, threading his fingers together, arching an eyebrow.

Technically, no. But that was the last answer she could give them. She had to sell it, had to work harder than she had ever before, for the directors were her toughest marks yet.

“I’ve seen the gas gun in action, and know that it can be useful,” Femme Fatale explained. “As for benefiting our mission, the work of F.O.W.L, of course it can and will. After all, it was designed for that very purpose.”

The Directors stared at her and she resisted the urge to smirk. She had them.

“The gas gun is S.H.U.S.H technology,” Bentley said slowly. “It was designed by their top inventor.”

“You’re right. It was,” Femme Fatale said, nodding slightly. “But it was never S.H.U.S.H technology, technically speaking. Agent One-Twenty-Two created the one and only prototype—the weapon of Darkwing Duck—at the request of a double-agent. Of course, One-Twenty-Two had no idea that he was building something for a double-agent. All the same, the gas gun was ultimately designed and built for a F.O.W.L agent infiltrating S.H.U.S.H. Therefore, it is rightfully F.O.W.L property. F.O.W.L property that S.H.U.S.H put into the hands of a showboating buffoon playacting as a obsolete television character, I might add.”

“Oh, I see now,” Bradford said, frowning. “This is personal, isn’t it?”

_Yes._ The most personal thing she had ever and would ever do for herself.

“No,” Femme Fatale answered. “This is about reclaiming F.O.W.L technology, and replicating it. We were defeated by a fool in a cape with smoke bombs. We had bullets. We had lasers. We had bombs. We had an army. We had air support. We grossly outnumbered Darkwing and his team. We had the upper-hand. We had everything. And yet Darkwing Duck cut us off at the knees with _smoke bombs_.

“It has long been the mission of the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny to control the world from behind the scenes, in the shadows. We are the puppet masters. We have the tools. The talent. The technology. Yet, S.H.U.S.H knows of our existence. Scrooge McDuck was highly aware of how we had infiltrated his company, and he played us for fools. Now, he and Agent Twenty-Two have one of our best agents and scientists in their grasp. How many projects and missions have we had to end because Dee knows too much? We all know the girl is going to be offered amnesty, to join McDuck’s team, and she’d be a fool to not accept it. After all, you gave Dee everything and have left her with absolutely nothing. When you terminated Agent Dee, Bradford, we lost a valuable weapon for our side. All I’m asking is for a chance to replace Dee with something just as valuable, if not more so.

“If F.O.W.L is going to succeed, if we’re going to defeat Scrooge McDuck, if we’re going to destroy S.H.U.S.H, if we’re going to recoup our losses, we need to take back what is rightfully ours. Sometimes, complicated problems have simple solutions. I believe that this gas gun—the epitome of simplicity—is our simple solution. So, yes, I am asking you, esteemed Directors, for permission to relieve Darkwing Duck of the gas gun and return it to its rightful owners: F.O.W.L.”

Femme Fatale finished her monologue and tucked her hands behind her back, waiting for final judgement.

The directors exchanged glances, and Bradford cleared his throat before saying,

“All in favor of approving Femme Fatale’s mission to retrieve Darkwing Duck’s gas gun?”

Three hands rose into the air.

Femme Fatale graciously bowed to the Directors, hiding her victorious smirk and the steely glint in her eyes, her voice demure as she said, “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Directors. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

_Better watch out, Darkwing Duck. I’m coming for you._


End file.
